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 Bangladesh and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Johnny Clarke to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mark Hollis,
Skaos,
The Slackers,
Dual Sessions,
Alison Limerick,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ludus,
Saccharine Trust,
The Detroit Cobras,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Bill Wells,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Smiths,
Gabor Szabo,
Reagan Youth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bronski Beat,
The Misunderstood,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ronan,
Peter & Gordon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pulsallama,
The Doobie Brothers,
Robert Wyatt,
Outsiders,
Swell Maps,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Basic Channel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nation of Ulysses,
MDC,
The Mojo Men,
June of 44,
Eli Mardock,
Organ,
OOIOO,
Bluetip,
Chrome,
Urselle,
The Selecter,
Stiv Bators,
Ornette Coleman,
Suburban Knight,
Man Parrish,
Colin Newman,
Derrick May,
Scientists,
Schoolly D,
Laurel Aitken,
Lou Christie,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.