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 Antigua and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 T.S.O.L. to the jazz 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Heaven 17,
The Mummies,
Bobby Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
Fugazi,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Amon Düül,
Grandmaster Flash,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kerri Chandler,
Suburban Knight,
Desert Stars,
Boz Scaggs,
Man Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oblivians,
Malaria!,
Panda Bear,
The Black Dice,
Deakin,
Black Pus,
Agitation Free,
ABC,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Red Krayola,
Livin' Joy,
R.M.O.,
Reagan Youth,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fort Wilson Riot,
David Axelrod,
Spandau Ballet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skarface,
Lower 48,
Don Cherry,
Theoretical Girls,
Joey Negro,
Faust,
Scion,
Lightning Bolt,
Pantaleimon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Trumans Water,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tubeway Army,
Vainqueur,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Model 500,
T. Rex,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rufus Thomas,
Harmonia,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.