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 Guinea-Bissau and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum 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 R.M.O. to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Young Rascals,
Oblivians,
The Fuzztones,
H. Thieme,
Cal Tjader,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bluetip,
Fluxion,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Whodini,
Jeff Lynne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dirtbombs,
Jawbox,
The Smiths,
The Victims,
Traffic Nightmare,
MDC,
The Cramps,
Urselle,
Agitation Free,
Jesper Dahlback,
Junior Murvin,
Electric Prunes,
Janne Schatter,
Max Romeo,
Camberwell Now,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Toni Rubio,
Theoretical Girls,
The Red Krayola,
The Monks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sixth Finger,
The Slackers,
Deakin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Leaves,
New York Dolls,
The Index,
Accadde A,
Silicon Teens,
Gong,
Skaos,
Chris Corsano,
Swans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gabor Szabo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Flamin' Groovies,
Moebius,
Hot Snakes,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.