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 Afghanistan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 The Moleskins to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brothers Johnson,
Terry Callier,
The Gladiators,
Gang of Four,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Red Krayola,
The Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pantytec,
Cluster,
Quando Quango,
Siglo XX,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tim Buckley,
Tres Demented,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deakin,
The Black Dice,
Al Stewart,
Erasure,
Max Romeo,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
OOIOO,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kurtis Blow,
Joyce Sims,
the Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
B.T. Express,
Section 25,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Count Five,
Isaac Hayes,
Make Up,
The Beau Brummels,
Blancmange,
The Fuzztones,
Fela Kuti,
Can,
Suburban Knight,
Pierre Henry,
Minnie Riperton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Johnny Osbourne,
Magazine,
Chris Corsano,
Ken Boothe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shoche,
Masters at Work,
Interpol,
Mo-Dettes,
Stockholm Monsters,
H. Thieme,
Ponytail,
The Music Machine,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.