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 Tanzania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rufus Thomas to the rap 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Ultimate Spinach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
The Victims,
Delta 5,
X-Ray Spex,
Symarip,
Idris Muhammad,
Accadde A,
Guru Guru,
Mars,
Mo-Dettes,
Scott Walker,
John Coltrane,
Reagan Youth,
T.S.O.L.,
Motorama,
Drive Like Jehu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quantec,
The Velvet Underground,
a-ha,
The Martian,
China Crisis,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Donald Byrd,
Cluster,
Siglo XX,
Lalann,
Kool Moe Dee,
World's Most,
Soft Cell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Agent Orange,
The Selecter,
Stetsasonic,
One Last Wish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sight & Sound,
Crooked Eye,
Brothers Johnson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marc Almond,
Iggy Pop,
48th St. Collective,
Black Bananas,
The Raincoats,
The Wake,
The Dead C,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Cecil Taylor,
Unwound,
Second Layer,
F. McDonald,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Angels of Light,
The Shadows of Knight,
Johnny Osbourne,
Moebius,
Popol Vuh,
Khruangbin,
Country Teasers,
Brand Nubian,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.