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 Chile and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Surgeon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Shoche,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roxy Music,
Fatback Band,
Bush Tetras,
Sun Ra,
Urselle,
Ossler,
The Pretty Things,
The Human League,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Visage,
Moss Icon,
Anakelly,
Scrapy,
Neu!,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fat Boys,
New York Dolls,
The Zeros,
FM Einheit,
Idris Muhammad,
Easy Going,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joy Division,
Sound Behaviour,
Cameo,
The Black Dice,
Ornette Coleman,
Derrick Morgan,
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Don Cherry,
Patti Smith,
Blancmange,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Los Fastidios,
Cybotron,
Supertramp,
Minutemen,
Public Image Ltd.,
Suburban Knight,
The Slackers,
Warren Ellis,
Model 500,
The Fall,
F. McDonald,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minor Threat,
Oblivians,
Agitation Free,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Television,
Maleditus Sound,
Monks,
Absolute Body Control,
Inner City,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gichy Dan,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.