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 Mauritius and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the rock 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Crooked Eye,
The Standells,
Mars,
Jimmy McGriff,
Zero Boys,
Robert Hood,
Magazine,
Skriet,
Desert Stars,
The Slackers,
The Zeros,
The Vogues,
The Tremeloes,
The Beau Brummels,
Grandmaster Flash,
Silicon Teens,
T.S.O.L.,
Eric Copeland,
Colin Newman,
Spandau Ballet,
The United States of America,
Tears for Fears,
The Walker Brothers,
Khruangbin,
The Pop Group,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sun City Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Faraquet,
Morten Harket,
The Sound,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Birthday Party,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Clarke,
Siglo XX,
Y Pants,
Whodini,
Alphaville,
Deepchord,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Little Man,
The Electric Prunes,
The Busters,
Oneida,
The Litter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Motorama,
Los Fastidios,
Flipper,
Cameo,
Country Teasers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marmalade,
Roger Hodgson,
Drexciya,
Trumans Water,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.