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 Spain and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the punk 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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Aural Exciters,
The Remains,
Derrick May,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Young Marble Giants,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
K-Klass,
Faraquet,
The Selecter,
The Sound,
John Foxx,
Gichy Dan,
The Monochrome Set,
Pet Shop Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Blackbyrds,
Joyce Sims,
Blancmange,
Cal Tjader,
Joy Division,
David Bowie,
Banda Bassotti,
David Axelrod,
Deakin,
Godley & Creme,
The Kinks,
R.M.O.,
Lalann,
Iggy Pop,
Graham Central Station,
Porter Ricks,
Mandrill,
Ultravox,
Technova,
Electric Light Orchestra,
DJ Style,
Harmonia,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Brothers Johnson,
Donny Hathaway,
Con Funk Shun,
X-101,
Buzzcocks,
Section 25,
Freddie Wadling,
Aaron Thompson,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Piero Umiliani,
Cymande,
Magazine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ken Boothe,
Nils Olav,
Warren Ellis,
Boredoms,
Wolf Eyes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.