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 Uganda and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
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 oboe 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 Mo-Dettes to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Kinks,
Ossler,
John Holt,
Eddi Front,
Sex Pistols,
Faraquet,
Pierre Henry,
Scratch Acid,
Anakelly,
Donny Hathaway,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
Yusef Lateef,
Crispian St. Peters,
Absolute Body Control,
Laurel Aitken,
Electric Prunes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bill Wells,
Bizarre Inc.,
David McCallum,
Bronski Beat,
Joey Negro,
Hoover,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Machine,
Stetsasonic,
Bauhaus,
Scientists,
John Lydon,
The Monks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jerry's Kids,
Funkadelic,
Arthur Verocai,
Symarip,
Deepchord,
Tubeway Army,
Kerri Chandler,
Minnie Riperton,
Basic Channel,
Slick Rick,
Buzzcocks,
The Red Krayola,
Idris Muhammad,
The Cowsills,
Porter Ricks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
FM Einheit,
H. Thieme,
Spoonie Gee,
Judy Mowatt,
The Martian,
Frankie Knuckles,
cv313,
The Young Rascals,
The Selecter,
Theoretical Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Morten Harket,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.