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 Jordan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Throbbing Gristle to the disco 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 Associates. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Derrick Morgan,
Archie Shepp,
Minny Pops,
Mo-Dettes,
Pagans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DNA,
Procol Harum,
Sarah Menescal,
Albert Ayler,
Shoche,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mantronix,
Joe Finger,
Yellowson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Smiths,
Ice-T,
Amazonics,
A Certain Ratio,
Jesper Dahlback,
Half Japanese,
Rites of Spring,
The Blues Magoos,
Tres Demented,
Sixth Finger,
Liliput,
Lalann,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blake Baxter,
Man Parrish,
The Gladiators,
Circle Jerks,
Fluxion,
Fad Gadget,
Moby Grape,
Faust,
The Black Dice,
Sister Nancy,
Scion,
Aaron Thompson,
Deakin,
AZ,
Janne Schatter,
Agent Orange,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Popol Vuh,
T. Rex,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Country Teasers,
Carl Craig,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Freddie Wadling,
Hot Snakes,
The Evens,
Subhumans,
Porter Ricks,
Erykah Badu,
Absolute Body Control,
Stiv Bators,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.