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 Kosovo and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 X-102 to the rock 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
B.T. Express,
Boogie Down Productions,
Shoche,
Rites of Spring,
Minnie Riperton,
Monks,
Sällskapet,
Intrusion,
Mars,
Pylon,
Technova,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Trumans Water,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lyres,
Blancmange,
The Electric Prunes,
The Evens,
The Names,
The Buckinghams,
kango's stein massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Normal,
Lalann,
Joyce Sims,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Seeds,
Main Source,
The Happenings,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Quando Quango,
Maurizio,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Erykah Badu,
Stereo Dub,
Rosa Yemen,
Wings,
Altered Images,
Newcleus,
Pussy Galore,
Agent Orange,
Kas Product,
Toni Rubio,
Eddi Front,
Fatback Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Selecter,
Aural Exciters,
Maleditus Sound,
Arthur Verocai,
Ken Boothe,
Eric Copeland,
Visage,
Bad Manners,
Harmonia,
The Modern Lovers,
Quadrant,
AZ,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dirtbombs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New Age Steppers,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.