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 Ireland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Flamin' Groovies,
Davy DMX,
The Black Dice,
Khruangbin,
Amon Düül II,
ABC,
The Last Poets,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Andrew Hill,
Althea and Donna,
The Names,
Newcleus,
Los Fastidios,
Pierre Henry,
Funkadelic,
Jacob Miller,
The Gap Band,
ABBA,
The Standells,
Terry Callier,
Unwound,
Nils Olav,
Lalo Schifrin,
Thee Headcoats,
Harry Pussy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Misunderstood,
the Soft Cell,
The Star Department,
Groovy Waters,
Pagans,
Hoover,
Dorothy Ashby,
Malaria!,
Circle Jerks,
Brick,
Delon & Dalcan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Brand Nubian,
Ludus,
The Fire Engines,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Grass Roots,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Monks,
The Red Krayola,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Laurel Aitken,
Marvin Gaye,
Sex Pistols,
Erykah Badu,
Trumans Water,
Fatback Band,
The Smiths,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Archie Shepp,
Stereo Dub,
Bill Wells,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.