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 United Kingdom and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Crispy Ambulance to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Crooked Eye,
Iggy Pop,
Tears for Fears,
Pere Ubu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Trojans,
The Dead C,
Dark Day,
D'Angelo,
Y Pants,
Stiv Bators,
The Real Kids,
The Techniques,
DNA,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sarah Menescal,
Magazine,
Suicide,
Soft Machine,
The Smoke,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Laurel Aitken,
One Last Wish,
Bill Wells,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ultra Naté,
Barbara Tucker,
Television Personalities,
the Swans,
Lungfish,
X-Ray Spex,
EPMD,
Rod Modell,
The Gladiators,
Isaac Hayes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Neu!,
Harmonia,
Kenny Larkin,
Rosa Yemen,
Mars,
Deadbeat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yellowson,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Sherman,
Scientists,
Mo-Dettes,
Arthur Verocai,
The Sonics,
the Normal,
The Young Rascals,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Minnie Riperton,
The Evens,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.