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 Namibia and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin 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 Cramps to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Mills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
China Crisis,
Interpol,
Jerry's Kids,
June of 44,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tim Buckley,
Sixth Finger,
Camouflage,
Fatback Band,
Livin' Joy,
Can,
Max Romeo,
Juan Atkins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dawn Penn,
Average White Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Davy DMX,
Sandy B,
Leonard Cohen,
Circle Jerks,
Camberwell Now,
Masters at Work,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fugs,
Trumans Water,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cecil Taylor,
Lower 48,
Pagans,
The Standells,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ken Boothe,
Black Flag,
The Music Machine,
Pantytec,
Yazoo,
Popol Vuh,
Adolescents,
Desert Stars,
Country Teasers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Intrusion,
The Sound,
Kenny Larkin,
The Toasters,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
K-Klass,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sällskapet,
Excepter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Faust,
Basic Channel,
Nirvana,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Flesh Eaters,
Royal Trux,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.