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 Venezuela and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Angels of Light,
Desert Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
La Düsseldorf,
Reagan Youth,
Archie Shepp,
Charles Mingus,
Gichy Dan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Man Eating Sloth,
Angry Samoans,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Womack,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Swans,
Aaron Thompson,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Move,
Nirvana,
Judy Mowatt,
Pole,
the Slits,
Roxy Music,
Clear Light,
Jawbox,
Howard Jones,
The Knickerbockers,
Bush Tetras,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Half Japanese,
Procol Harum,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lyres,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marcia Griffiths,
Maleditus Sound,
Khruangbin,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dual Sessions,
Metal Thangz,
OOIOO,
Bobby Sherman,
Warren Ellis,
The Raincoats,
Average White Band,
Saccharine Trust,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Radiohead,
Camberwell Now,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Human League,
Soulsonic Force,
The Zeros,
Tres Demented,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers,
Hardrive,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.