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 Andorra and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 Josef K to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Rapeman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Shuggie Otis,
Drive Like Jehu,
The New Christs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roxette,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Aloha Tigers,
Stiv Bators,
This Heat,
Gang Gang Dance,
Minny Pops,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kas Product,
Flipper,
Main Source,
Country Teasers,
Pierre Henry,
Jacques Brel,
Silicon Teens,
The Invisible,
Heaven 17,
Donald Byrd,
Masters at Work,
B.T. Express,
Excepter,
Derrick May,
Jandek,
Minor Threat,
Lindisfarne,
Accadde A,
L. Decosne,
The Martian,
June Days,
Morten Harket,
Danielle Patucci,
The Motions,
Sun City Girls,
The Blackbyrds,
Harry Pussy,
The Red Krayola,
Aswad,
Lyres,
The Moody Blues,
Desert Stars,
Soul II Soul,
Pantytec,
Rekid,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bad Manners,
Negative Approach,
Ludus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Juan Atkins,
Bill Wells,
Minutemen,
Swell Maps,
Bootsy Collins,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.