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 Ivory Coast and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 synthesizer 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 Lou Christie to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fugs,
Subhumans,
The Victims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Junior Murvin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aural Exciters,
Anakelly,
The Seeds,
The Monochrome Set,
Fluxion,
Public Enemy,
Mission of Burma,
Rapeman,
Gastr Del Sol,
Skriet,
The Beau Brummels,
Dead Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minor Threat,
The Real Kids,
Average White Band,
The Red Krayola,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Kinks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Zapp,
Amazonics,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Roxy Music,
Blake Baxter,
Wolf Eyes,
Quando Quango,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tubeway Army,
These Immortal Souls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fatback Band,
Ronan,
Neil Young,
Grauzone,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Can,
Minny Pops,
Whodini,
The Monks,
The Human League,
Eurythmics,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Ludus,
Minnie Riperton,
Sound Behaviour,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brand Nubian,
Silicon Teens,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth.
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.