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 Sri Lanka and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Traffic Nightmare to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
48th St. Collective,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Quantec,
The Alarm Clocks,
Parry Music,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Byrd,
Surgeon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Faraquet,
Ossler,
Cluster,
Scott Walker,
The New Christs,
Sex Pistols,
Scratch Acid,
John Foxx,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Patti Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Fear,
Smog,
Joe Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
U.S. Maple,
Soft Cell,
Easy Going,
Symarip,
Public Enemy,
Black Sheep,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blues Magoos,
The Tremeloes,
Matthew Halsall,
Idris Muhammad,
Wolf Eyes,
Camouflage,
Country Teasers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gang of Four,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mr. Review,
E-Dancer,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Sherman,
The Toasters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
K-Klass,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Leaves,
The Stooges,
Moby Grape,
Skaos,
Moss Icon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Detroit Cobras,
X-Ray Spex,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.