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 Burkina and from Tokyo.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Hot Snakes,
Camouflage,
The Cowsills,
Zero Boys,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moebius,
Khruangbin,
Jacques Brel,
Cybotron,
The Victims,
Monolake,
Eve St. Jones,
Silicon Teens,
F. McDonald,
Neil Young,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Clarke,
H. Thieme,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Motorama,
Tomorrow,
Lou Christie,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Matthew Halsall,
Kaleidoscope,
Crime,
Howard Jones,
Spoonie Gee,
Altered Images,
Massinfluence,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pole,
the Association,
the Slits,
Erasure,
T. Rex,
The Zeros,
Iggy Pop,
kango's stein massive,
Darondo,
Ossler,
The Vogues,
Matthew Bourne,
Model 500,
Arcadia,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Los Fastidios,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Sound,
Ultravox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sällskapet,
Jerry's Kids,
The Residents,
Gong,
Boredoms,
The Walker Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
LL Cool J,
Trumans Water,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.