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 Angola and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Anthony Braxton to the grime 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron 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 marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Bronski Beat,
Tres Demented,
Roxette,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sound,
The Fugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
World's Most,
Nick Fraelich,
The J.B.'s,
Angry Samoans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Silicon Teens,
Parry Music,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bang On A Can,
Fluxion,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Thompson Twins,
This Heat,
Nico,
Panda Bear,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yaz,
Junior Murvin,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sound Behaviour,
Camberwell Now,
Johnny Clarke,
Kerrie Biddell,
Malaria!,
Excepter,
MDC,
Amon Düül,
The Beau Brummels,
New York Dolls,
Nirvana,
Scott Walker,
Swans,
Skarface,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ronnie Foster,
Crime,
Matthew Bourne,
Dave Gahan,
Hardrive,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Happenings,
Interpol,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Selecter,
Vainqueur,
D'Angelo,
T. Rex,
The Angels of Light,
F. McDonald,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.