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 Kuwait and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 David Bowie 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 These Immortal Souls to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül II,
The Durutti Column,
Pantaleimon,
Bootsy Collins,
Maleditus Sound,
Crooked Eye,
Black Pus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
T.S.O.L.,
Swans,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Tremeloes,
The Vogues,
Throbbing Gristle,
Theoretical Girls,
The Toasters,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Sherman,
Robert Görl,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sex Pistols,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ultravox,
Bang On A Can,
Rakim,
JFA,
Joy Division,
the Swans,
Flash Fearless,
Rosa Yemen,
Skriet,
Barrington Levy,
Isaac Hayes,
Dave Gahan,
The Fuzztones,
Spoonie Gee,
Massinfluence,
Shoche,
Minny Pops,
Index,
The Modern Lovers,
Matthew Halsall,
Cheater Slicks,
The Misunderstood,
Anakelly,
Yazoo,
Monolake,
Wire,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dawn Penn,
the Bar-Kays,
Japan,
Laurel Aitken,
Brick,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Index,
The Blues Magoos,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.