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 Paraguay and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
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 snare 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 Suburban Knight to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar 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?
Bush Tetras,
Minutemen,
Crooked Eye,
Boz Scaggs,
The Blackbyrds,
Crime,
Metal Thangz,
Surgeon,
The Barracudas,
Camberwell Now,
John Holt,
New Age Steppers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quantec,
Panda Bear,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Electric Prunes,
Donny Hathaway,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Juan Atkins,
Wire,
Gang of Four,
Nirvana,
Dennis Brown,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Toasters,
Lightning Bolt,
Alton Ellis,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Sherman,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
ABBA,
Mantronix,
Banda Bassotti,
Public Enemy,
Connie Case,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tropical Tobacco,
Circle Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
Blancmange,
Loose Ends,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
One Last Wish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Susan Cadogan,
Lyres,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Delta 5,
Kas Product,
Procol Harum,
The Blues Magoos,
The Move,
Black Flag,
F. McDonald,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.