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 Solomon Islands and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the dance 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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
R.M.O.,
Nirvana,
Accadde A,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hardrive,
Flipper,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gabor Szabo,
Bill Wells,
Index,
Hot Snakes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jeff Mills,
a-ha,
Kevin Saunderson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Aaron Thompson,
Bad Manners,
Crash Course in Science,
Joe Finger,
Tom Boy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Donny Hathaway,
The Invisible,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Last Poets,
The Five Americans,
Tears for Fears,
Black Pus,
Erasure,
Technova,
The Gories,
Janne Schatter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Moon,
X-101,
David McCallum,
Oblivians,
Youth Brigade,
The Skatalites,
The Slits,
Jimmy McGriff,
Chrome,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Main Source,
Wolf Eyes,
David Bowie,
FM Einheit,
These Immortal Souls,
Public Enemy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nas,
Duran Duran,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cameo,
The Stooges,
Make Up,
Eddi Front,
Mission of Burma,
Goldenarms,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.