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 Kazakhstan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Scientists to the funk 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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Icehouse,
Monks,
The Dead C,
Slave,
Moebius,
Crispian St. Peters,
Flipper,
Alison Limerick,
The Smoke,
Tomorrow,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Tremeloes,
the Bar-Kays,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wasted Youth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sixth Finger,
Severed Heads,
Subhumans,
Aaron Thompson,
Desert Stars,
Ken Boothe,
Brand Nubian,
Gabor Szabo,
Quando Quango,
Angry Samoans,
X-Ray Spex,
Lindisfarne,
Alice Coltrane,
The Velvet Underground,
Yellowson,
Mark Hollis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nik Kershaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Five Americans,
LL Cool J,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
AZ,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yaz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Silicon Teens,
Eric Dolphy,
Animal Collective,
The Saints,
The Walker Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Marmalade,
The Birthday Party,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scientists,
Marvin Gaye,
Minnie Riperton,
Ornette Coleman,
Avey Tare,
Carl Craig,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.