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 Hungary and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jimmy McGriff to the funk 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Adolescents,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Cramps,
Gil Scott Heron,
Popol Vuh,
Buzzcocks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Zapp,
Ultravox,
Mad Mike,
Y Pants,
Pere Ubu,
Arthur Verocai,
X-101,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Swans,
The Doors,
Subhumans,
Nas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Alphaville,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fuzztones,
Chris & Cosey,
Matthew Halsall,
Bronski Beat,
The Five Americans,
The Kinks,
The Slackers,
The Sonics,
Alison Limerick,
Groovy Waters,
Make Up,
Supertramp,
The Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
Eve St. Jones,
Accadde A,
Al Stewart,
The United States of America,
Alice Coltrane,
Warren Ellis,
Iggy Pop,
Ronan,
Arab on Radar,
Godley & Creme,
The Index,
Nation of Ulysses,
Babytalk,
Essential Logic,
James White and The Blacks,
Magma,
Grauzone,
Tomorrow,
Smog,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Public Enemy,
John Foxx,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.