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 Honduras and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Big Daddy Kane to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Nick Fraelich,
Suicide,
Audionom,
Magma,
The Beau Brummels,
Grauzone,
Rakim,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rod Modell,
Sonny Sharrock,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
R.M.O.,
The Litter,
Youth Brigade,
Neu!,
The Music Machine,
Jandek,
Michelle Simonal,
Subhumans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sound Behaviour,
Agitation Free,
Gabor Szabo,
Ornette Coleman,
Aloha Tigers,
The Skatalites,
Barrington Levy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Idris Muhammad,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gichy Dan,
Japan,
Surgeon,
The Sound,
The Sonics,
Albert Ayler,
Soft Cell,
Urselle,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bob Dylan,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Wake,
The Count Five,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Fall,
Yellowson,
Cheater Slicks,
Ken Boothe,
Gastr Del Sol,
Funky Four + One,
Bill Wells,
Siglo XX,
Ralphi Rosario,
Steve Hackett,
Outsiders,
Liliput,
10cc,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brothers Johnson,
Smog,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.