Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mauritania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Ice-T to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Pere Ubu,
Section 25,
The Associates,
The Victims,
Radiopuhelimet,
Model 500,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Arcadia,
Grauzone,
June of 44,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Massinfluence,
Hoover,
Organ,
the Sonics,
Minnie Riperton,
Lakeside,
The Birthday Party,
Can,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cameo,
the Slits,
Oneida,
Spoonie Gee,
John Holt,
The Slits,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pierre Henry,
Bobby Sherman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lower 48,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris Corsano,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eric Dolphy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Saints,
D'Angelo,
Joyce Sims,
Slick Rick,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Busters,
Sarah Menescal,
Underground Resistance,
Tres Demented,
Steve Hackett,
Talk Talk,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fuzztones,
the Germs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marmalade,
Quando Quango,
Half Japanese,
Marvin Gaye,
Mo-Dettes,
Television,
Urselle,
Kerri Chandler,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.