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 Brunei and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Dead C to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispian St. Peters,
New York Dolls,
La Düsseldorf,
Yusef Lateef,
Hasil Adkins,
Al Stewart,
Bang On A Can,
Rod Modell,
Gastr Del Sol,
Shoche,
Rakim,
Adolescents,
Warren Ellis,
Thee Headcoats,
Eli Mardock,
Simply Red,
Fat Boys,
The Divine Comedy,
Hoover,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispy Ambulance,
Television Personalities,
The Human League,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Beau Brummels,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Robert Hood,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Bananas,
Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Khruangbin,
Prince Buster,
Wasted Youth,
DJ Style,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scott Walker,
Ken Boothe,
The Seeds,
Vainqueur,
Quando Quango,
The Knickerbockers,
Joy Division,
Whodini,
Trumans Water,
The Sonics,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
MDC,
Amazonics,
Joe Finger,
Alice Coltrane,
The Red Krayola,
The Monks,
Skaos,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.