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 Uzbekistan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Deakin to the funk 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
The Zeros,
Pantaleimon,
Unwound,
The Young Rascals,
Blossom Toes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Agent Orange,
Deakin,
Robert Wyatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alison Limerick,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warsaw,
Nik Kershaw,
Hot Snakes,
Peter and Kerry,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Star Department,
Sam Rivers,
The Standells,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nirvana,
Gang Green,
Agitation Free,
Roger Hodgson,
Audionom,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Byron Stingily,
the Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Lee Hazlewood,
ABBA,
This Heat,
Cheater Slicks,
The Dead C,
Dorothy Ashby,
DJ Sneak,
The Seeds,
Jawbox,
Oneida,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Inner City,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
The Smoke,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Black Dice,
Graham Central Station,
Swans,
New York Dolls,
Can,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Amon Düül,
UT,
Erykah Badu,
Zapp,
Man Parrish,
Deepchord,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Newcleus,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.