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 Egypt and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barry Ungar to the rap 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
Simply Red,
The Music Machine,
The Moleskins,
Animal Collective,
Swell Maps,
Gong,
Moebius,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sällskapet,
Minnie Riperton,
Cecil Taylor,
the Sonics,
The Mummies,
Tim Buckley,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bush Tetras,
The Five Americans,
Model 500,
MC5,
Sixth Finger,
The Slackers,
T. Rex,
Intrusion,
The Leaves,
The Move,
Funkadelic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Kenny Larkin,
Sam Rivers,
Eve St. Jones,
The Trojans,
The Moody Blues,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
David Axelrod,
Masters at Work,
Rod Modell,
Cluster,
Dorothy Ashby,
cv313,
Icehouse,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fat Boys,
Pylon,
Grauzone,
the Fania All-Stars,
Q and Not U,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Metal Thangz,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tubeway Army,
Isaac Hayes,
Sarah Menescal,
Byron Stingily,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.