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 Malaysia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Funkadelic to the jazz 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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nico,
Au Pairs,
Jerry's Kids,
Deakin,
Chrome,
the Soft Cell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mars,
Reuben Wilson,
Jawbox,
The Misunderstood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Subhumans,
Barry Ungar,
Franke,
Albert Ayler,
Japan,
Infiniti,
Cal Tjader,
Sparks,
Hoover,
Sarah Menescal,
The United States of America,
Magazine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Faust,
Loose Ends,
Drive Like Jehu,
Skriet,
Charles Mingus,
Wasted Youth,
Aural Exciters,
Youth Brigade,
The Dead C,
The Selecter,
Desert Stars,
The Martian,
Barrington Levy,
Godley & Creme,
Sällskapet,
Fluxion,
Anthony Braxton,
The Stooges,
The Smiths,
The Offenders,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Blues Magoos,
Ludus,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cowsills,
Maleditus Sound,
The Blackbyrds,
June Days,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
R.M.O.,
The Star Department,
Circle Jerks,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.