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 Qatar and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Tom Verlaine 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 F. McDonald to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unrelated Segments,
Slick Rick,
The Gun Club,
Carl Craig,
Porter Ricks,
D'Angelo,
John Lydon,
Simply Red,
Rakim,
The Music Machine,
Scratch Acid,
The Divine Comedy,
Arthur Verocai,
The Evens,
Ohio Players,
The Angels of Light,
Blancmange,
Gang Green,
Black Sheep,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New Age Steppers,
Duran Duran,
Saccharine Trust,
Judy Mowatt,
Monolake,
Eric Copeland,
The Remains,
Wolf Eyes,
Kaleidoscope,
The Moleskins,
Black Flag,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Anthony Braxton,
Ludus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxy Music,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cluster,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Human League,
Spoonie Gee,
Au Pairs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Connie Case,
E-Dancer,
Zapp,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Pop Group,
a-ha,
Angry Samoans,
Mission of Burma,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Neu!,
The Smoke,
Zero Boys,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Chrome,
Can,
Jacob Miller,
Pet Shop Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Pharoah Sanders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.