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 Lagos.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 David Bowie 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 Happenings to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wings,
Slick Rick,
Sexual Harrassment,
Das Ding,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Interpol,
The Grass Roots,
The Music Machine,
Popol Vuh,
The Smoke,
Livin' Joy,
Scan 7,
Lalo Schifrin,
Television Personalities,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ken Boothe,
Amazonics,
Symarip,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Donald Byrd,
T.S.O.L.,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fugs,
Fat Boys,
Roxy Music,
Sun City Girls,
The Misunderstood,
Sarah Menescal,
The Pop Group,
Bang On A Can,
Yellowson,
Tears for Fears,
Make Up,
June Days,
Stereo Dub,
John Holt,
Moebius,
the Bar-Kays,
Index,
Freddie Wadling,
Ludus,
Outsiders,
Gastr Del Sol,
Monolake,
Country Teasers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camouflage,
The Blackbyrds,
Panda Bear,
Reuben Wilson,
Arab on Radar,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lou Reed,
The Cure,
Drexciya,
Gichy Dan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.