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 Guyana and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 guitar 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mo-Dettes,
Prince Buster,
The Fuzztones,
La Düsseldorf,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
T.S.O.L.,
China Crisis,
The Offenders,
DJ Style,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pagans,
Cal Tjader,
Pere Ubu,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kaleidoscope,
Cecil Taylor,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Los Fastidios,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thee Headcoats,
Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
The Vogues,
Unwound,
Malaria!,
Con Funk Shun,
Technova,
Kurtis Blow,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker,
Pantaleimon,
The Moody Blues,
The Gun Club,
In Retrospect,
June Days,
Althea and Donna,
Don Cherry,
K-Klass,
Infiniti,
Schoolly D,
Chris Corsano,
Faust,
Boz Scaggs,
Section 25,
MC5,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lower 48,
Shuggie Otis,
Al Stewart,
Pole,
The Toasters,
Albert Ayler,
Second Layer,
Joey Negro,
Panda Bear,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sun City Girls,
Eli Mardock,
X-102,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.