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 Bhutan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
R.M.O.,
Cecil Taylor,
Amon Düül,
Camouflage,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The New Christs,
Peter and Kerry,
Sam Rivers,
Khruangbin,
The Litter,
Ronan,
Electric Prunes,
Japan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Morten Harket,
The Fall,
New Age Steppers,
Roger Hodgson,
Marvin Gaye,
June Days,
Donald Byrd,
The Neon Judgement,
Sugar Minott,
Crime,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Soft Cell,
Underground Resistance,
Whodini,
Au Pairs,
Pulsallama,
The Remains,
Deadbeat,
Pylon,
FM Einheit,
Al Stewart,
Eric Copeland,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Quantec,
The Mojo Men,
Albert Ayler,
Cybotron,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fire Engines,
Godley & Creme,
The Durutti Column,
Oblivians,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Model 500,
Con Funk Shun,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Danielle Patucci,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobby Womack,
Patti Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
The Wake,
Isaac Hayes,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Index,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.