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 Serbia and from Mexico City.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun Ra,
Skaos,
Kayak,
Reagan Youth,
Mission of Burma,
Suicide,
The Walker Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Second Layer,
Lou Christie,
Pet Shop Boys,
June Days,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The J.B.'s,
The Standells,
Mr. Review,
Wolf Eyes,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Görl,
Los Fastidios,
Scratch Acid,
Nico,
Ultimate Spinach,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Das Ding,
Ohio Players,
Lakeside,
The Wake,
The Seeds,
Camouflage,
The Grass Roots,
Tres Demented,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kenny Larkin,
Visage,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fatback Band,
Average White Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Foxx,
The Electric Prunes,
Yusef Lateef,
Soft Cell,
Warsaw,
The Pretty Things,
Howard Jones,
Bang On A Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Clear Light,
Man Parrish,
The Leaves,
Desert Stars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Connie Case,
Suburban Knight,
Neu!,
Whodini,
Duran Duran,
the Association,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.