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 Eritrea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Sao Paulo.
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 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 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 Suicide to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
The American Breed,
Kurtis Blow,
Terrestrial Tones,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers,
Tomorrow,
The Cowsills,
Los Fastidios,
Siglo XX,
Janne Schatter,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sandy B,
Monolake,
the Human League,
Letta Mbulu,
The Move,
The Trojans,
The Electric Prunes,
Banda Bassotti,
Maleditus Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nick Fraelich,
The Blues Magoos,
Zero Boys,
Gong,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Slits,
Audionom,
New York Dolls,
The Buckinghams,
Boredoms,
The Gories,
Sugar Minott,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Godley & Creme,
Leonard Cohen,
The Moleskins,
Susan Cadogan,
Al Stewart,
Rosa Yemen,
Joyce Sims,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Angels of Light,
the Soft Cell,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Halsall,
Schoolly D,
John Holt,
Minny Pops,
Bill Wells,
Wally Richardson,
Rufus Thomas,
ABC,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Chrome,
Moebius,
Cecil Taylor,
The Misunderstood,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.