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 Jamaica and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin 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 Archie Shepp to the rap 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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cluster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cymande,
Groovy Waters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Johnny Clarke,
E-Dancer,
The Durutti Column,
Toni Rubio,
Oneida,
Darondo,
Robert Hood,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Royal Trux,
Sun Ra,
the Sonics,
Moebius,
Magma,
Pylon,
Ituana,
Whodini,
The Human League,
Y Pants,
Franke,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DNA,
The Moody Blues,
The Move,
Alton Ellis,
Lou Reed,
KRS-One,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cramps,
Harry Pussy,
David McCallum,
Neil Young,
The Raincoats,
Tears for Fears,
CMW,
Dennis Brown,
Frankie Knuckles,
Idris Muhammad,
Brand Nubian,
Newcleus,
Traffic Nightmare,
Warsaw,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Pus,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pere Ubu,
Glenn Branca,
Index,
Sonic Youth,
The Cure,
The Offenders,
T. Rex,
Tres Demented,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Masters at Work,
Carl Craig,
The Seeds,
Pantytec,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.