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 Thailand and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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?
Harry Pussy,
Eve St. Jones,
Nas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Laurel Aitken,
Absolute Body Control,
La Düsseldorf,
Morten Harket,
Hot Snakes,
Amazonics,
Fear,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mad Mike,
The Searchers,
Model 500,
Erasure,
Lindisfarne,
Agent Orange,
The Red Krayola,
The Index,
The Litter,
Royal Trux,
The Martian,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Terry Callier,
Kool Moe Dee,
Skriet,
The Offenders,
Thee Headcoats,
Urselle,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Toni Rubio,
Camouflage,
X-102,
Barry Ungar,
Quadrant,
Mission of Burma,
Anakelly,
Suburban Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
David Axelrod,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fugs,
The Fuzztones,
The Stooges,
Sarah Menescal,
Gil Scott Heron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Magazine,
Steve Hackett,
Niagra,
Colin Newman,
Crooked Eye,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.