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 Guyana and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Arthur Verocai,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Neon Judgement,
Hot Snakes,
The Invisible,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Clarke,
The Searchers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Visage,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jandek,
Derrick May,
Clear Light,
The Knickerbockers,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Martian,
Banda Bassotti,
Erasure,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sun Ra,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crime,
T. Rex,
Shoche,
Janne Schatter,
The Fortunes,
Black Sheep,
Gong,
Scan 7,
Newcleus,
Gastr Del Sol,
Monks,
Minor Threat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The J.B.'s,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tomorrow,
Max Romeo,
Lucky Dragons,
Chrome,
Soul II Soul,
Oneida,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tears for Fears,
The Smoke,
Harry Pussy,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Bill Wells,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cure,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.