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 Luxembourg and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Young Rascals to the techno 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Minutemen,
Brick,
James White and The Blacks,
Gabor Szabo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Al Stewart,
PIL,
Cameo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Underground Resistance,
Parry Music,
The Pop Group,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Arab on Radar,
Fad Gadget,
Kaleidoscope,
Hardrive,
Whodini,
Soft Machine,
Robert Wyatt,
Bush Tetras,
Amon Düül,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Golliwogs,
Anthony Braxton,
Depeche Mode,
Mr. Review,
Monks,
The Blackbyrds,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jacques Brel,
Guru Guru,
Panda Bear,
Fatback Band,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Godley & Creme,
Section 25,
Blake Baxter,
the Association,
UT,
The Stooges,
Ultravox,
Jesper Dahlback,
Slave,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Newcleus,
Chris Corsano,
The Misunderstood,
Johnny Osbourne,
Matthew Halsall,
Lakeside,
Sex Pistols,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rufus Thomas,
Loose Ends,
R.M.O.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Peter & Gordon,
The Red Krayola,
Oblivians,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.