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 Dominican Republic 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Kerrie Biddell,
Wasted Youth,
ABC,
The Moody Blues,
Crime,
Duran Duran,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Outsiders,
Isaac Hayes,
Cheater Slicks,
Roy Ayers,
The Smoke,
The Trojans,
The Dead C,
Agitation Free,
Bill Wells,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ohio Players,
Circle Jerks,
Wolf Eyes,
X-Ray Spex,
Country Teasers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Suicide,
Amon Düül II,
Schoolly D,
Eric Dolphy,
Radio Birdman,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Swell Maps,
Avey Tare,
Mantronix,
F. McDonald,
Joyce Sims,
Technova,
Rotary Connection,
The Neon Judgement,
Alphaville,
The Pretty Things,
X-101,
Arab on Radar,
Sight & Sound,
Nas,
Prince Buster,
Barrington Levy,
Royal Trux,
Ludus,
Skaos,
Marine Girls,
Patti Smith,
Stiv Bators,
The Grass Roots,
Bill Near,
Sun City Girls,
Flipper,
Robert Hood,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.