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 Costa Rica and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Al Stewart to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
The Seeds,
New Age Steppers,
Gang Gang Dance,
John Foxx,
Fat Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Todd Terry,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sexual Harrassment,
Circle Jerks,
The Durutti Column,
Bootsy Collins,
The Detroit Cobras,
Desert Stars,
AZ,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pantytec,
Motorama,
Massinfluence,
Peter & Gordon,
Porter Ricks,
Moby Grape,
Country Teasers,
Visage,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brass Construction,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fluxion,
Ash Ra Tempel,
New York Dolls,
Erykah Badu,
Mad Mike,
Scott Walker,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Patti Smith,
Kurtis Blow,
James White and The Blacks,
The Techniques,
Symarip,
Slick Rick,
Iggy Pop,
The Leaves,
Grauzone,
Masters at Work,
Morten Harket,
Swell Maps,
Theoretical Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Crime,
Negative Approach,
Quantec,
Severed Heads,
Albert Ayler,
Charles Mingus,
Brick,
The Evens,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.