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 Dominican Republic and from Cairo.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum 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 Piero Umiliani to the rap 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Skriet,
Todd Rundgren,
The Last Poets,
The Martian,
Pantaleimon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jacob Miller,
Thompson Twins,
The Gories,
Gabor Szabo,
Sonic Youth,
Blossom Toes,
Popol Vuh,
Eddi Front,
Model 500,
Excepter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Isaac Hayes,
Rod Modell,
Robert Görl,
Archie Shepp,
Hot Snakes,
Eurythmics,
Tim Buckley,
The Barracudas,
the Swans,
Ultra Naté,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roy Ayers,
Main Source,
Barbara Tucker,
David Bowie,
Parry Music,
Black Sheep,
Franke,
Erasure,
Robert Wyatt,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crooked Eye,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aaron Thompson,
Fat Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Goldenarms,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric Dolphy,
Donald Byrd,
The Kinks,
48th St. Collective,
Visage,
The Monochrome Set,
Flipper,
Rhythm & Sound,
Newcleus,
R.M.O.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Flamin' Groovies,
Swell Maps,
Y Pants,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.