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 Botswana and from Seoul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Minutemen to the grime 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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Moon,
Soft Cell,
Henry Cow,
Excepter,
Minutemen,
Michelle Simonal,
Wings,
David McCallum,
Ultimate Spinach,
Don Cherry,
the Swans,
Kaleidoscope,
Marvin Gaye,
Gabor Szabo,
The Red Krayola,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kurtis Blow,
The Barracudas,
Arab on Radar,
The Mojo Men,
Dual Sessions,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Eyeless In Gaza,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Electric Prunes,
Johnny Clarke,
Magazine,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Doors,
Whodini,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Delta 5,
the Sonics,
Babytalk,
Scan 7,
Rotary Connection,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Gories,
Panda Bear,
The Fuzztones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marine Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marmalade,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Altered Images,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Severed Heads,
X-102,
Von Mondo,
Black Pus,
The Cramps,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Terry Callier,
ABC,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.