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 San Marino and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Crash Course in Science to the rap 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
L. Decosne,
Radio Birdman,
Oblivians,
the Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lebanon Hanover,
Royal Trux,
Das Ding,
Pet Shop Boys,
Idris Muhammad,
Icehouse,
Deakin,
Tubeway Army,
Trumans Water,
The Evens,
Mr. Review,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nick Fraelich,
Y Pants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Alphaville,
Pierre Henry,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sound,
The Martian,
Sparks,
Spoonie Gee,
Byron Stingily,
AZ,
Rosa Yemen,
Hashim,
Black Flag,
Lindisfarne,
Neil Young,
Fluxion,
Quantec,
Bill Near,
CMW,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Los Fastidios,
Sam Rivers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Harry Pussy,
OOIOO,
ABC,
Alison Limerick,
Fatback Band,
Severed Heads,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Red Krayola,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Essential Logic,
E-Dancer,
The American Breed,
Dead Boys,
Siglo XX,
Bauhaus,
Porter Ricks,
The Searchers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.