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 South Africa and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Malaria! to the crunk 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
cv313,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dennis Brown,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Youth Brigade,
The Misunderstood,
The Names,
The Real Kids,
Black Sheep,
Barclay James Harvest,
T.S.O.L.,
The Slits,
Lower 48,
F. McDonald,
Thee Headcoats,
Fat Boys,
Sister Nancy,
Deepchord,
Talk Talk,
Quando Quango,
Terrestrial Tones,
David Bowie,
Suburban Knight,
The Remains,
Los Fastidios,
the Association,
Mars,
Public Image Ltd.,
Whodini,
Ronnie Foster,
Half Japanese,
Tomorrow,
Robert Wyatt,
Steve Hackett,
The Five Americans,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Franke,
Radiohead,
Marshall Jefferson,
Freddie Wadling,
Patti Smith,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Suicide,
Flipper,
The Fuzztones,
The Mojo Men,
Prince Buster,
Livin' Joy,
the Normal,
Symarip,
Unwound,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Chris Corsano,
Animal Collective,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joey Negro,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Skriet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Carl Craig,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.