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 Nauru and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Erykah Badu to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Surgeon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cameo,
The Last Poets,
Bobby Sherman,
This Heat,
Eric Dolphy,
Livin' Joy,
Essential Logic,
Joey Negro,
The Zeros,
Davy DMX,
Neu!,
Roy Ayers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Erykah Badu,
Tom Boy,
Pole,
The Electric Prunes,
Malaria!,
Second Layer,
The Cramps,
Don Cherry,
The Selecter,
Gang Green,
Black Moon,
The Offenders,
Ultravox,
Mission of Burma,
Dark Day,
JFA,
X-101,
Stetsasonic,
Soft Cell,
Average White Band,
Make Up,
Soul II Soul,
Main Source,
Soft Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eve St. Jones,
Chris & Cosey,
the Association,
The Motions,
Joy Division,
Crash Course in Science,
Y Pants,
Qualms,
Fat Boys,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tommy Roe,
AZ,
Little Man,
The Victims,
The Grass Roots,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Whodini,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boredoms,
Dual Sessions,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.