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 Czech Republic 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 Mission of Burma to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Walker Brothers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
EPMD,
Quadrant,
The Flesh Eaters,
Byron Stingily,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cluster,
Erykah Badu,
Todd Rundgren,
Lungfish,
Charles Mingus,
Rufus Thomas,
Dawn Penn,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Danielle Patucci,
The Raincoats,
B.T. Express,
R.M.O.,
Bill Near,
Camouflage,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Guru Guru,
Chrome,
The Stooges,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Visage,
Ice-T,
Negative Approach,
Bobby Womack,
Nick Fraelich,
Malaria!,
Monks,
Jacques Brel,
Faraquet,
Rekid,
Yusef Lateef,
The Toasters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
New York Dolls,
The Golliwogs,
Erasure,
Hashim,
Jeff Lynne,
Wasted Youth,
T. Rex,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mo-Dettes,
Tim Buckley,
Zapp,
Scan 7,
Matthew Bourne,
Wings,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.