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 Belarus and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 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 The Misunderstood to the rap 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skarface record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Minny Pops,
The Monks,
Clear Light,
Icehouse,
Arthur Verocai,
Derrick May,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Electric Prunes,
Massinfluence,
Technova,
Alphaville,
The Victims,
Magma,
Tom Boy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Misunderstood,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Letta Mbulu,
Guru Guru,
Fear,
David Axelrod,
Sun Ra,
Malaria!,
Leonard Cohen,
Severed Heads,
The Gories,
Unwound,
Jandek,
Soft Cell,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Saints,
Public Enemy,
One Last Wish,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Basic Channel,
The Standells,
The Cure,
The Pretty Things,
Cameo,
The Dirtbombs,
Albert Ayler,
The Sonics,
Marvin Gaye,
Marine Girls,
Anakelly,
Talk Talk,
David Bowie,
Grandmaster Flash,
Moby Grape,
Chris & Cosey,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ossler,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ornette Coleman,
The Zeros,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lou Reed,
Dave Gahan,
The Doors,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.