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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Parrish to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
E-Dancer,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fall,
Oblivians,
Vainqueur,
Hoover,
The Slits,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Popol Vuh,
The Velvet Underground,
The Doobie Brothers,
Skriet,
Fugazi,
Kaleidoscope,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bauhaus,
Heaven 17,
X-102,
Unrelated Segments,
Vladislav Delay,
John Coltrane,
Eric Copeland,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Doors,
Bob Dylan,
Audionom,
Angry Samoans,
Archie Shepp,
Underground Resistance,
Mo-Dettes,
T. Rex,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Soul Sonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mark Hollis,
The Busters,
Sparks,
Lindisfarne,
The Moleskins,
the Sonics,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Seeds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ituana,
June Days,
Max Romeo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Raincoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Pus,
Soulsonic Force,
Sun City Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Steve Hackett,
Parry Music,
JFA,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.