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 Bangladesh and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar 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 Neon Judgement to the electroclash 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Minutemen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Skatalites,
Rekid,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
UT,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rotary Connection,
Joe Finger,
Mr. Review,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
a-ha,
D'Angelo,
The Zeros,
Isaac Hayes,
Archie Shepp,
Scientists,
Gang of Four,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alison Limerick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Peter and Kerry,
PIL,
Grauzone,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Byrd,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Loose Ends,
The Standells,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
DJ Sneak,
Amon Düül II,
Trumans Water,
The Motions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lyres,
Radio Birdman,
Tears for Fears,
T. Rex,
Alice Coltrane,
Pylon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The J.B.'s,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L.,
Joyce Sims,
Moebius,
Monks,
John Cale,
F. McDonald,
Black Pus,
Pierre Henry,
Bang On A Can,
The Remains,
Gabor Szabo,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.