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 Slovakia 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gang Green to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Sonics,
Bobby Sherman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Graham Central Station,
Bootsy Collins,
Lalo Schifrin,
Maleditus Sound,
Pere Ubu,
The Vogues,
Angry Samoans,
Supertramp,
Archie Shepp,
The Moody Blues,
The Barracudas,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bang On A Can,
The Angels of Light,
Royal Trux,
Lungfish,
Carl Craig,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Offenders,
Porter Ricks,
Isaac Hayes,
Sarah Menescal,
UT,
Suicide,
The Music Machine,
AZ,
Wings,
Los Fastidios,
Colin Newman,
Oneida,
Lower 48,
Scrapy,
Make Up,
Maurizio,
Chris & Cosey,
Anthony Braxton,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Whodini,
The Slackers,
Godley & Creme,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Joy Division,
Eric B and Rakim,
Babytalk,
B.T. Express,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Almond,
Radio Birdman,
Mandrill,
Lakeside,
Brass Construction,
The Black Dice,
Junior Murvin,
Soul II Soul,
Altered Images,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.