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 Switzerland and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the punk 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Icehouse,
Surgeon,
Babytalk,
The Star Department,
Marine Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cluster,
Scan 7,
Boredoms,
Derrick May,
Agitation Free,
Pussy Galore,
Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Pere Ubu,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sam Rivers,
Tubeway Army,
Negative Approach,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Echospace,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cybotron,
Alphaville,
The Neon Judgement,
Wings,
Interpol,
Black Sheep,
The Pop Group,
Erykah Badu,
The Doors,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Flag,
Sex Pistols,
The Music Machine,
KRS-One,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Smog,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deadbeat,
the Soft Cell,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Don Cherry,
Zero Boys,
the Germs,
Pagans,
Radio Birdman,
Leonard Cohen,
The Dirtbombs,
The Victims,
Hot Snakes,
Joey Negro,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heaven 17,
Terry Callier,
Suicide,
Alton Ellis,
Man Parrish,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.