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 Liechtenstein and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Terrestrial Tones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
kango's stein massive,
Pylon,
Slick Rick,
Prince Buster,
Marine Girls,
L. Decosne,
The Toasters,
Scan 7,
The Raincoats,
Barry Ungar,
Gabor Szabo,
Mission of Burma,
Jacob Miller,
Bobby Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magazine,
The Star Department,
Mark Hollis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Skatalites,
Erasure,
The Beau Brummels,
Public Enemy,
Aaron Thompson,
Eddi Front,
Jeru the Damaja,
Das Ding,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mars,
Peter and Kerry,
Maurizio,
FM Einheit,
Boogie Down Productions,
Darondo,
The American Breed,
Glambeats Corp.,
Liliput,
Sister Nancy,
Skarface,
Babytalk,
Pere Ubu,
Janne Schatter,
Ralphi Rosario,
Symarip,
The Names,
Quando Quango,
Roy Ayers,
World's Most,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Residents,
Black Bananas,
The Pop Group,
Black Sheep,
Popol Vuh,
Johnny Clarke,
Idris Muhammad,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.