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 Nepal and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 DJ Sneak to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Moleskins,
Intrusion,
Depeche Mode,
Ludus,
Lou Reed,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Electric Prunes,
Anakelly,
The Fall,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Oneida,
Lou Christie,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jandek,
Eddi Front,
Barclay James Harvest,
Junior Murvin,
Brand Nubian,
Television Personalities,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Grass Roots,
MC5,
Big Daddy Kane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Youth Brigade,
Joyce Sims,
Visage,
Blancmange,
Main Source,
Rod Modell,
The Fuzztones,
PIL,
10cc,
Y Pants,
Barbara Tucker,
The Blues Magoos,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Alphaville,
The Litter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fortunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alton Ellis,
John Foxx,
Cybotron,
Gastr Del Sol,
The United States of America,
Dead Boys,
Jeff Lynne,
Pantytec,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Arthur Verocai,
Eli Mardock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tropical Tobacco,
Royal Trux,
Chris Corsano,
Livin' Joy,
Metal Thangz,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Trojans,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.