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 Swaziland and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Half Japanese to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins 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 techno 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Mars,
Porter Ricks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Names,
The Slits,
Joe Smooth,
Leonard Cohen,
Todd Terry,
The Trojans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cecil Taylor,
Blossom Toes,
Banda Bassotti,
The Barracudas,
Gichy Dan,
Monks,
Intrusion,
The Motions,
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
Graham Central Station,
The Blackbyrds,
Essential Logic,
Unrelated Segments,
Arthur Verocai,
Jeff Lynne,
Lower 48,
Amon Düül,
Sam Rivers,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Maleditus Sound,
Nils Olav,
Prince Buster,
Delta 5,
Joensuu 1685,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Alphaville,
Deepchord,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Wake,
Underground Resistance,
Maurizio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minny Pops,
Model 500,
Marvin Gaye,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wire,
Flamin' Groovies,
Aural Exciters,
Pantytec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The American Breed,
Kayak,
The Birthday Party,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.