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 Ivory Coast and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the rap 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Arthur Verocai,
Lindisfarne,
The New Christs,
Angry Samoans,
Althea and Donna,
A Certain Ratio,
The Zeros,
Bluetip,
Monks,
Junior Murvin,
Scrapy,
Juan Atkins,
The Skatalites,
Shoche,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Interpol,
It's A Beautiful Day,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pierre Henry,
Barry Ungar,
The Velvet Underground,
June of 44,
Mad Mike,
Todd Terry,
the Normal,
Cecil Taylor,
World's Most,
Newcleus,
Nation of Ulysses,
Niagra,
Ronnie Foster,
Alphaville,
Byron Stingily,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultra Naté,
Funkadelic,
Camberwell Now,
Fear,
Robert Hood,
The Divine Comedy,
Harmonia,
Bob Dylan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yazoo,
The Residents,
Susan Cadogan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Theoretical Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ken Boothe,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gang Green,
Pulsallama,
Marine Girls,
Underground Resistance,
Aural Exciters,
Sandy B,
Boredoms,
Lungfish,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.