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 Czech Republic and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Crispy Ambulance to the rap 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All MC5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ultravox,
Lower 48,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Television Personalities,
The Saints,
Theoretical Girls,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang Starr,
Laurel Aitken,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Stooges,
the Swans,
China Crisis,
Wasted Youth,
Camberwell Now,
Icehouse,
Unrelated Segments,
The Dead C,
New Age Steppers,
Intrusion,
Rekid,
Khruangbin,
Delon & Dalcan,
New York Dolls,
Los Fastidios,
Eddi Front,
Davy DMX,
Drive Like Jehu,
Amon Düül II,
Hoover,
Make Up,
Harpers Bizarre,
Liliput,
Technova,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lakeside,
Vainqueur,
Con Funk Shun,
Mission of Burma,
The Evens,
John Lydon,
Heaven 17,
Bronski Beat,
Yellowson,
Monolake,
These Immortal Souls,
Gang Green,
The Angels of Light,
The Barracudas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kaleidoscope,
Alison Limerick,
Mars,
D'Angelo,
ABC,
Girls At Our Best!,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.