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 Malta and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Donald Fagen 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 Public Enemy to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Man Parrish,
The Five Americans,
ABBA,
Index,
Sonic Youth,
The Black Dice,
The Skatalites,
Con Funk Shun,
Model 500,
Susan Cadogan,
The American Breed,
Al Stewart,
FM Einheit,
Cecil Taylor,
The Busters,
Inner City,
Youth Brigade,
Alice Coltrane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Slick Rick,
The Smoke,
Ice-T,
Man Eating Sloth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Beau Brummels,
Morten Harket,
Jacques Brel,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arcadia,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bang On A Can,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alton Ellis,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Neu!,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
Infiniti,
Newcleus,
Godley & Creme,
Joy Division,
Blossom Toes,
Motorama,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Divine Comedy,
Moebius,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Silicon Teens,
The Gun Club,
Minor Threat,
Grey Daturas,
New Order,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Faust,
The Red Krayola,
Black Moon,
Alison Limerick,
Scientists,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sound Behaviour,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.