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 Benin and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 guitar 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Blake Baxter 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?
The Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Howard Jones,
Deadbeat,
Colin Newman,
Susan Cadogan,
Eden Ahbez,
Country Teasers,
Delta 5,
Main Source,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Normal,
Index,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cecil Taylor,
The Real Kids,
Piero Umiliani,
Silicon Teens,
Arcadia,
Danielle Patucci,
Anthony Braxton,
Adolescents,
Ralphi Rosario,
Blossom Toes,
Jacob Miller,
Technova,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Barry Ungar,
Pulsallama,
The Count Five,
Sly & The Family Stone,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kerri Chandler,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Darondo,
the Soft Cell,
Unwound,
The Dirtbombs,
The Raincoats,
Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Cale,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Sheep,
Janne Schatter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Anakelly,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yellowson,
Aural Exciters,
Ken Boothe,
Brothers Johnson,
The Modern Lovers,
Whodini,
Soft Cell,
Faust,
The Black Dice,
Mark Hollis,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.