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 Comoros and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Fortunes to the grunge 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
The Angels of Light,
The Smoke,
10cc,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pantytec,
EPMD,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Arcadia,
T. Rex,
48th St. Collective,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
cv313,
Radio Birdman,
Thompson Twins,
Scientists,
The Slackers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Avey Tare,
The American Breed,
Severed Heads,
Saccharine Trust,
The Saints,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Au Pairs,
Quando Quango,
Tommy Roe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Wake,
Ituana,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amazonics,
kango's stein massive,
Flamin' Groovies,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Cure,
Sugar Minott,
the Normal,
Matthew Bourne,
Sarah Menescal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alison Limerick,
Bush Tetras,
Loose Ends,
Parry Music,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Deepchord,
Lalann,
The Fugs,
Nik Kershaw,
Masters at Work,
Fad Gadget,
Monolake,
Country Teasers,
Khruangbin,
Brass Construction,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fuzztones,
The Velvet Underground,
DNA,
The Star Department,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.