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 Morocco and from Halifax.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Edmonton.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 DJ Style to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Rakim,
Robert Görl,
Yazoo,
Minutemen,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Swell Maps,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lyres,
The Neon Judgement,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Porter Ricks,
Country Teasers,
New York Dolls,
Amon Düül II,
Siglo XX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crash Course in Science,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Sonics,
La Düsseldorf,
Aural Exciters,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Reed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Technova,
Slick Rick,
Arcadia,
Drive Like Jehu,
Max Romeo,
The Move,
Dead Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mark Hollis,
Khruangbin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Byron Stingily,
The Grass Roots,
Cymande,
Television Personalities,
Hot Snakes,
The Smoke,
Banda Bassotti,
Wings,
The Knickerbockers,
The Black Dice,
Aswad,
Crime,
Newcleus,
Reagan Youth,
Judy Mowatt,
The Red Krayola,
Camouflage,
Minor Threat,
Simply Red,
Arthur Verocai,
Hoover,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.