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 Turkmenistan and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Blues Magoos to the rock 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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Pylon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
DJ Sneak,
Lakeside,
John Lydon,
Gichy Dan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Anakelly,
Jeff Lynne,
Skaos,
Nick Fraelich,
Leonard Cohen,
Bob Dylan,
a-ha,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fuzztones,
Visage,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Saints,
Ultravox,
Sällskapet,
Wasted Youth,
Sun Ra,
Mantronix,
The Fugs,
Ossler,
Ornette Coleman,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wolf Eyes,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül II,
Scott Walker,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soft Cell,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rotary Connection,
Jimmy McGriff,
Roxette,
Pet Shop Boys,
New Order,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Wyatt,
Wings,
Metal Thangz,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Donald Byrd,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Agent Orange,
Index,
Lightning Bolt,
Roxy Music,
Basic Channel,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.