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 Korea North and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba 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 The Misunderstood to the punk 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Dark Day,
Ponytail,
EPMD,
Anakelly,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Kinks,
Scrapy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Livin' Joy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David McCallum,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lightning Bolt,
The Doors,
Prince Buster,
The Techniques,
Theoretical Girls,
Letta Mbulu,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Holt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Swans,
The Music Machine,
Goldenarms,
Ituana,
Pagans,
Neil Young,
Scion,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sam Rivers,
Public Enemy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sonny Sharrock,
Maurizio,
Deepchord,
Pere Ubu,
The Slackers,
The Martian,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mars,
Chris & Cosey,
Khruangbin,
Funky Four + One,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bill Wells,
Sun Ra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Inner City,
the Bar-Kays,
Lyres,
Smog,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soul II Soul,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.