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 Kuwait and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar 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 Eli Mardock to the electroclash 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
T. Rex,
The Blackbyrds,
Peter & Gordon,
Lungfish,
Loose Ends,
Lindisfarne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Sonics,
The Gories,
Kaleidoscope,
Gong,
Dawn Penn,
June of 44,
Connie Case,
Sun Ra,
Piero Umiliani,
New York Dolls,
Magma,
Joey Negro,
Warsaw,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tres Demented,
Pere Ubu,
Eric B and Rakim,
LL Cool J,
Livin' Joy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Black Dice,
The Cowsills,
Popol Vuh,
Black Moon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crispian St. Peters,
Blancmange,
E-Dancer,
The Real Kids,
Cecil Taylor,
Aural Exciters,
The New Christs,
DJ Sneak,
The Victims,
The Gun Club,
Excepter,
The Vogues,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Al Stewart,
Roger Hodgson,
Fad Gadget,
Terry Callier,
The Monks,
Eric Dolphy,
Arab on Radar,
a-ha,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxette,
Robert Görl,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.