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 Antigua and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
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 rhodes 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
L. Decosne,
Arab on Radar,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lalo Schifrin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Velvet Underground,
The Motions,
Bill Near,
R.M.O.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Al Stewart,
Boredoms,
Accadde A,
Ronan,
The Golliwogs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
the Soft Cell,
Bad Manners,
The Black Dice,
Barry Ungar,
The Walker Brothers,
Aaron Thompson,
The Beau Brummels,
Siglo XX,
The Human League,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Con Funk Shun,
Supertramp,
Althea and Donna,
Drexciya,
8 Eyed Spy,
Country Teasers,
World's Most,
Radiohead,
The Smiths,
Alton Ellis,
AZ,
Blossom Toes,
Terry Callier,
Ice-T,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Sheep,
Scratch Acid,
Khruangbin,
Severed Heads,
The Toasters,
Heaven 17,
Minutemen,
Sixth Finger,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brothers Johnson,
The Techniques,
One Last Wish,
Dave Gahan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.