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 Cameroon and from Houston.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 güiro 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 The Gladiators to the electroclash 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
The Names,
Youth Brigade,
Pantaleimon,
the Normal,
Funky Four + One,
Heaven 17,
Porter Ricks,
The Victims,
Cluster,
The Slits,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Swans,
Brothers Johnson,
Mars,
Tres Demented,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Doobie Brothers,
48th St. Collective,
Thee Headcoats,
Shoche,
Gerry Rafferty,
EPMD,
Harmonia,
Barrington Levy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Smog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Parry Music,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Pus,
Joe Finger,
The Birthday Party,
Khruangbin,
Cybotron,
Mandrill,
Blancmange,
E-Dancer,
Gil Scott Heron,
Harry Pussy,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yusef Lateef,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skaos,
Mark Hollis,
Circle Jerks,
June of 44,
Silicon Teens,
Sex Pistols,
The Saints,
Skarface,
Juan Atkins,
Eurythmics,
Underground Resistance,
Robert Görl,
Von Mondo,
Fatback Band,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.