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 Mali and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Peter & Gordon to the funk 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a spring reverb 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 güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Echospace,
Wire,
The Real Kids,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Interpol,
Metal Thangz,
8 Eyed Spy,
Monolake,
Glambeats Corp.,
Erykah Badu,
R.M.O.,
KRS-One,
Fugazi,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Barracudas,
The Misunderstood,
Cymande,
Flash Fearless,
Freddie Wadling,
Ludus,
New Age Steppers,
John Cale,
Fad Gadget,
Bobby Byrd,
Nick Fraelich,
Idris Muhammad,
Ice-T,
Blancmange,
The Buckinghams,
Eden Ahbez,
Negative Approach,
Mission of Burma,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tres Demented,
Bluetip,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Wake,
Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Danielle Patucci,
Mad Mike,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Slits,
Mo-Dettes,
Fluxion,
Ituana,
Isaac Hayes,
The Fuzztones,
Severed Heads,
The Cure,
Erasure,
Iggy Pop,
Gang Green,
The Dirtbombs,
Infiniti,
Circle Jerks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Delon & Dalcan,
Patti Smith,
Drive Like Jehu,
Smog,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.