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 Jamaica and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 Taipei and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Suburban Knight to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Rod Modell,
The Monks,
Chris Corsano,
Niagra,
Talk Talk,
Yaz,
Danielle Patucci,
Lower 48,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scientists,
Matthew Bourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeff Mills,
Ossler,
Glenn Branca,
The Modern Lovers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television,
Icehouse,
The Birthday Party,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Angels of Light,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Brothers Johnson,
Althea and Donna,
Oneida,
Soul Sonic Force,
Maurizio,
Radio Birdman,
U.S. Maple,
Mars,
Kurtis Blow,
The Seeds,
Cluster,
The Martian,
June Days,
Fat Boys,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Das Ding,
Q65,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Human League,
Sun City Girls,
Dennis Brown,
Cybotron,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Searchers,
The Red Krayola,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ken Boothe,
Roger Hodgson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Techniques,
Tomorrow,
The Happenings,
Marc Almond,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.