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 Botswana and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Patti Smith to the dance 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Arab on Radar,
the Normal,
Soft Cell,
Jeff Lynne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Henry Cow,
The Modern Lovers,
Derrick May,
Aloha Tigers,
Pussy Galore,
Adolescents,
Severed Heads,
Tears for Fears,
AZ,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Angels of Light,
La Düsseldorf,
EPMD,
Mo-Dettes,
Pylon,
Intrusion,
Moby Grape,
Joey Negro,
Dead Boys,
Marine Girls,
The Raincoats,
Anakelly,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Shadows of Knight,
Drexciya,
Maurizio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cure,
The Pop Group,
Lower 48,
Quadrant,
Spandau Ballet,
Mission of Burma,
The Motions,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Saints,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Bar-Kays,
Icehouse,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Sheep,
Reagan Youth,
The Moleskins,
Janne Schatter,
the Human League,
Quantec,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sun Ra,
The Blues Magoos,
Inner City,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Peter & Gordon,
Au Pairs,
Bill Near,
Boogie Down Productions,
Liliput,
Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan, Delon & Dalcan.
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.