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 Australia and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Pretty Things,
Kurtis Blow,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobby Womack,
Altered Images,
Prince Buster,
Black Bananas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Fluxion,
Eric Copeland,
The Wake,
Ituana,
The Human League,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Pierre Henry,
The Durutti Column,
The Fire Engines,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Cramps,
Yusef Lateef,
Pulsallama,
Yellowson,
Japan,
Junior Murvin,
Television,
Animal Collective,
Idris Muhammad,
Essential Logic,
Delta 5,
Johnny Clarke,
Saccharine Trust,
Roxy Music,
The Cure,
Cameo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skaos,
The Smoke,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Masters at Work,
Eli Mardock,
Todd Terry,
Franke,
Intrusion,
Michelle Simonal,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Young Marble Giants,
The Sonics,
Donny Hathaway,
Fad Gadget,
Gang of Four,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.