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 Dominican Republic and from Philadelphia.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Yusef Lateef to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
R.M.O.,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Certain Ratio,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Josef K,
Jandek,
Faust,
The Leaves,
Hashim,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Groovy Waters,
Rufus Thomas,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lucky Dragons,
The Last Poets,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Seeds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Parry Music,
Das Ding,
The Smoke,
The Blues Magoos,
The Birthday Party,
The Modern Lovers,
Moby Grape,
Peter & Gordon,
Lalo Schifrin,
H. Thieme,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ten City,
Blake Baxter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Human League,
Jerry's Kids,
Little Man,
Spoonie Gee,
The Beau Brummels,
Amon Düül,
Johnny Clarke,
Porter Ricks,
Gabor Szabo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Khruangbin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Charles Mingus,
Zero Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultravox,
Severed Heads,
Lou Reed,
Mr. Review,
L. Decosne,
The Searchers,
Deepchord,
In Retrospect,
Amon Düül II,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.