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 Serbia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Litter,
Tres Demented,
Kayak,
The American Breed,
The Fortunes,
Liliput,
Roxy Music,
Shuggie Otis,
Faraquet,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Zeros,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scientists,
Alice Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tim Buckley,
Morten Harket,
Animal Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fela Kuti,
David Bowie,
The Moleskins,
Lightning Bolt,
The Blues Magoos,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Association,
Iggy Pop,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Y Pants,
Andrew Hill,
The Busters,
Bobby Womack,
the Bar-Kays,
Funkadelic,
Smog,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Byrd,
Janne Schatter,
The Beau Brummels,
Prince Buster,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sugar Minott,
Kurtis Blow,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Last Poets,
Rhythm & Sound,
Icehouse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Brass Construction,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.