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 Costa Rica and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 Slave to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
The Gap Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Soft Machine,
Bush Tetras,
The Dead C,
LL Cool J,
the Fania All-Stars,
Heaven 17,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Kinks,
Rites of Spring,
Funky Four + One,
Faraquet,
Sonic Youth,
The Velvet Underground,
In Retrospect,
48th St. Collective,
La Düsseldorf,
Thee Headcoats,
Inner City,
Marine Girls,
Pere Ubu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Suburban Knight,
Deakin,
Babytalk,
The Birthday Party,
The Real Kids,
Negative Approach,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pulsallama,
Jerry's Kids,
Bobby Sherman,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans,
Kayak,
Nils Olav,
Cal Tjader,
David Bowie,
Eddi Front,
Sparks,
Spoonie Gee,
Vladislav Delay,
Unwound,
Michelle Simonal,
Jawbox,
Crispy Ambulance,
Judy Mowatt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ludus,
Sight & Sound,
Japan,
Skarface,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lou Christie,
Underground Resistance,
Moby Grape,
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.