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 Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe 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 Thee Headcoats to the funk 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Ituana,
Ronnie Foster,
Royal Trux,
Tomorrow,
Radiohead,
Mad Mike,
Ultravox,
In Retrospect,
The Barracudas,
the Association,
Judy Mowatt,
Alice Coltrane,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kerrie Biddell,
Derrick May,
David McCallum,
Jacob Miller,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
Suicide,
Spandau Ballet,
Neil Young,
Japan,
The Smoke,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gabor Szabo,
Drexciya,
Liliput,
Anthony Braxton,
The Doors,
Peter & Gordon,
Donny Hathaway,
The Remains,
a-ha,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Real Kids,
Organ,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ludus,
Moby Grape,
Hot Snakes,
Connie Case,
Moss Icon,
John Holt,
The Gap Band,
Sound Behaviour,
DNA,
The Cure,
CMW,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Birthday Party,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Leonard Cohen,
Kurtis Blow,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rufus Thomas,
Soulsonic Force,
The Offenders,
The Beau Brummels,
The Slits,
Duran Duran,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.