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 Lebanon and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Toni Rubio,
D'Angelo,
the Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
Fela Kuti,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Pretty Things,
Sarah Menescal,
Depeche Mode,
Panda Bear,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Donny Hathaway,
The Young Rascals,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Barbara Tucker,
The Stooges,
Kerri Chandler,
Monks,
The Doors,
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Stereo Dub,
John Lydon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sonic Youth,
Severed Heads,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Public Enemy,
Masters at Work,
Thompson Twins,
Buzzcocks,
The Leaves,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Little Man,
The Cramps,
Bill Wells,
Quantec,
Matthew Bourne,
The Buckinghams,
The Names,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deadbeat,
Ossler,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Seeds,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sex Pistols,
Minnie Riperton,
Tom Boy,
Youth Brigade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lyres,
The Selecter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kurtis Blow,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.