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 Algeria and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Velvet Underground to the crunk 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya 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,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Searchers,
Pierre Henry,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Standells,
Neu!,
The Gap Band,
Dave Gahan,
Sällskapet,
Joy Division,
Soft Machine,
Gabor Szabo,
Chris & Cosey,
Simply Red,
The Slits,
Peter and Kerry,
Au Pairs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jandek,
Wire,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wolf Eyes,
DJ Sneak,
The Doobie Brothers,
Arthur Verocai,
Y Pants,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Litter,
Amazonics,
The Fuzztones,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Pretty Things,
OOIOO,
Drexciya,
Throbbing Gristle,
The American Breed,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hasil Adkins,
E-Dancer,
The Invisible,
Robert Hood,
Nirvana,
Barry Ungar,
Sandy B,
Alice Coltrane,
Brothers Johnson,
June of 44,
Sister Nancy,
The Dirtbombs,
John Coltrane,
Swell Maps,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Fugs,
Nick Fraelich,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Andrew Hill,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.