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 Palau and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Absolute Body Control to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Steve Hackett,
Yellowson,
Khruangbin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Von Mondo,
Terry Callier,
Wings,
The Remains,
The Blackbyrds,
The Martian,
Mantronix,
48th St. Collective,
Hot Snakes,
Arab on Radar,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David McCallum,
Mission of Burma,
Reagan Youth,
Q65,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Negative Approach,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Hood,
Susan Cadogan,
Tomorrow,
Lungfish,
The Searchers,
Shuggie Otis,
The Index,
Monolake,
Amon Düül II,
Ultra Naté,
Charles Mingus,
Wolf Eyes,
Clear Light,
MDC,
Erykah Badu,
The Monks,
The Move,
Juan Atkins,
The Divine Comedy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aloha Tigers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Soft Cell,
The Kinks,
Bobby Womack,
Aaron Thompson,
Con Funk Shun,
Excepter,
The Moleskins,
Second Layer,
These Immortal Souls,
The Toasters,
Eve St. Jones,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bob Dylan,
The Cure,
Man Parrish,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.