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 Kenya and from Mumbai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 Stiv Bators to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
The Birthday Party,
The Names,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Banda Bassotti,
Matthew Bourne,
D'Angelo,
Yaz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Slick Rick,
Rotary Connection,
Harry Pussy,
Negative Approach,
Ituana,
Chrome,
Half Japanese,
The Electric Prunes,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Reed,
Mission of Burma,
Lower 48,
China Crisis,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bob Dylan,
Hashim,
Graham Central Station,
Bush Tetras,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grandmaster Flash,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Womack,
PIL,
The Moody Blues,
Suburban Knight,
Thompson Twins,
Oneida,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Al Stewart,
Jandek,
Swans,
Rekid,
Underground Resistance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Surgeon,
Spoonie Gee,
The Residents,
Todd Rundgren,
Cluster,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Starr,
Index,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Pus,
Carl Craig,
Robert Hood,
Black Flag,
Reuben Wilson,
10cc,
Goldenarms,
Patti Smith,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.