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 Peru and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 KRS-One to the rock 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective 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?
Skaos,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Index,
The Barracudas,
Das Ding,
DNA,
Television,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hashim,
the Normal,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül II,
Archie Shepp,
Bush Tetras,
Bluetip,
Lalann,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Bowie,
Zero Boys,
Rakim,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick May,
FM Einheit,
Bobby Sherman,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Electric Prunes,
Gang of Four,
Cal Tjader,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Moon,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Velvet Underground,
Bad Manners,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra,
Main Source,
Ultra Naté,
The Angels of Light,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Niagra,
The Slackers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Y Pants,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Soft Cell,
The Stooges,
Rekid,
The Raincoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bob Dylan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Glenn Branca,
Radiopuhelimet,
cv313,
Anthony Braxton,
Franke,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mantronix,
The Associates,
The Fire Engines,
Inner City,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.