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 Ireland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Accadde A,
Kas Product,
Amon Düül,
Jacob Miller,
Graham Central Station,
Faraquet,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
DJ Sneak,
Suicide,
Agent Orange,
Erasure,
Moby Grape,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wings,
Amazonics,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Popol Vuh,
The Neon Judgement,
Altered Images,
Nick Fraelich,
Ohio Players,
cv313,
The Busters,
Drexciya,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fuzztones,
Donald Byrd,
Warsaw,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
MC5,
Rosa Yemen,
Sex Pistols,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Sparks,
Ultravox,
The Detroit Cobras,
World's Most,
Bill Near,
Malaria!,
Pussy Galore,
Scott Walker,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sarah Menescal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Althea and Donna,
The Litter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fat Boys,
The Move,
Y Pants,
Terry Callier,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gong,
The Beau Brummels,
Desert Stars,
Livin' Joy,
Gabor Szabo,
Moss Icon,
Funky Four + One,
Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance, Underground Resistance.
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.