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 Namibia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mumbai.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Wasted Youth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Joyce Sims,
Public Image Ltd.,
Camouflage,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Wake,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Procol Harum,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Velvet Underground,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lower 48,
Anthony Braxton,
E-Dancer,
U.S. Maple,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Television,
This Heat,
Gang Green,
Dennis Brown,
Spoonie Gee,
Jeff Lynne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Smoke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Malaria!,
Swans,
Roxy Music,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hasil Adkins,
Absolute Body Control,
DNA,
One Last Wish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobby Womack,
The Golliwogs,
Rosa Yemen,
Althea and Donna,
The Monochrome Set,
Nik Kershaw,
Eden Ahbez,
Crooked Eye,
Suicide,
the Soft Cell,
China Crisis,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bizarre Inc.,
Schoolly D,
Letta Mbulu,
Whodini,
The Fire Engines,
Thompson Twins,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Franke,
Minnie Riperton,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.