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 Morocco and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 F. McDonald to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang of Four,
Saccharine Trust,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ossler,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barrington Levy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Modern Lovers,
Swans,
Fela Kuti,
Prince Buster,
H. Thieme,
Vladislav Delay,
Patti Smith,
Niagra,
Funkadelic,
Duran Duran,
Blake Baxter,
Absolute Body Control,
Don Cherry,
The Move,
Soul Sonic Force,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Lydon,
Minny Pops,
Kerri Chandler,
Grauzone,
Organ,
The Invisible,
Aural Exciters,
Cecil Taylor,
Tom Boy,
Skaos,
Parry Music,
Crooked Eye,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
B.T. Express,
Symarip,
Man Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Flamin' Groovies,
Janne Schatter,
The Pretty Things,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Doors,
Josef K,
Scientists,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joensuu 1685,
Lightning Bolt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dawn Penn,
Simply Red,
Rotary Connection,
Index,
Crispian St. Peters,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.