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 Turkmenistan and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Big Daddy Kane to the electroclash 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
The Busters,
UT,
Mission of Burma,
Joensuu 1685,
Sex Pistols,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radio Birdman,
Don Cherry,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Junior Murvin,
Todd Rundgren,
Bush Tetras,
New Order,
The Sonics,
Rotary Connection,
Sonic Youth,
Kaleidoscope,
Marine Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
Faust,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amazonics,
Sandy B,
Swans,
One Last Wish,
Theoretical Girls,
Inner City,
Bobby Byrd,
The Gun Club,
Parry Music,
Harry Pussy,
Pole,
Alice Coltrane,
Alton Ellis,
Heaven 17,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Offenders,
This Heat,
Crime,
Skaos,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Howard Jones,
Arab on Radar,
The Vogues,
Skriet,
Nik Kershaw,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Cowsills,
H. Thieme,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
In Retrospect,
Aloha Tigers,
Ituana,
Johnny Osbourne,
Todd Terry,
Robert Wyatt,
The Five Americans,
Bob Dylan,
The Fuzztones,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Funky Four + One,
Rod Modell,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.