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 Taiwan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 Section 25 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
the Normal,
Echospace,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Charles Mingus,
The Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chris & Cosey,
Neil Young,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Aswad,
Joyce Sims,
Banda Bassotti,
The Searchers,
Mandrill,
Lucky Dragons,
Visage,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Don Cherry,
Spandau Ballet,
L. Decosne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Main Source,
Icehouse,
the Bar-Kays,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Minny Pops,
World's Most,
MDC,
The Names,
Gang Starr,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Janne Schatter,
Saccharine Trust,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Patti Smith,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Johnny Clarke,
Oblivians,
The Detroit Cobras,
June Days,
Robert Hood,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Black Pus,
Idris Muhammad,
Colin Newman,
the Soft Cell,
Roy Ayers,
The Star Department,
Johnny Osbourne,
Isaac Hayes,
Lightning Bolt,
David Bowie,
The Knickerbockers,
Pharoah Sanders,
James White and The Blacks,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.