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 Uganda and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare 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 Bobby Byrd to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth 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 a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
Byron Stingily,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mantronix,
The Cure,
The Searchers,
Jerry's Kids,
the Bar-Kays,
Ossler,
The United States of America,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Flag,
Josef K,
Peter & Gordon,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Fania All-Stars,
New York Dolls,
Alphaville,
Tommy Roe,
Subhumans,
Little Man,
The Busters,
Bang On A Can,
The Smiths,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
X-102,
Rotary Connection,
Sonny Sharrock,
Siglo XX,
Sex Pistols,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Radiohead,
The Moleskins,
The Music Machine,
Mr. Review,
The Young Rascals,
John Coltrane,
Joyce Sims,
Judy Mowatt,
The Cowsills,
Franke,
Anakelly,
The Durutti Column,
Nils Olav,
Aural Exciters,
Toni Rubio,
FM Einheit,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scrapy,
The New Christs,
Country Teasers,
Joensuu 1685,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
John Holt,
Unwound,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Japan,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.