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 Russia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 clarinet 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 Aloha Tigers to the crunk 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities 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?
Country Teasers,
Eve St. Jones,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Slackers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Delon & Dalcan,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Symarip,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Offenders,
Simply Red,
Anakelly,
The Move,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eurythmics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Mummies,
Angry Samoans,
Blossom Toes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Accadde A,
Fear,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Excepter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sarah Menescal,
Man Parrish,
Delta 5,
Kerri Chandler,
Eric Dolphy,
Funkadelic,
Mr. Review,
K-Klass,
8 Eyed Spy,
Agitation Free,
The Five Americans,
Pagans,
E-Dancer,
The Raincoats,
Das Ding,
Inner City,
B.T. Express,
Jacques Brel,
JFA,
Boogie Down Productions,
Spoonie Gee,
Terry Callier,
Model 500,
The Gun Club,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Human League,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camouflage,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pylon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Slick Rick,
Visage,
Donald Byrd,
Zapp,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.