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 Chile and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Echospace to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
The Smoke,
The Black Dice,
DNA,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crispy Ambulance,
Animal Collective,
The Remains,
Ornette Coleman,
Byron Stingily,
Ohio Players,
Cymande,
The Misunderstood,
Ralphi Rosario,
Country Teasers,
Jacob Miller,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
This Heat,
Mantronix,
Lebanon Hanover,
Grandmaster Flash,
Babytalk,
Hasil Adkins,
Marmalade,
Fatback Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fela Kuti,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scientists,
The Saints,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül,
Average White Band,
ABBA,
Black Bananas,
The Golliwogs,
Rapeman,
Marine Girls,
Derrick Morgan,
CMW,
Bizarre Inc.,
Agent Orange,
Echospace,
Max Romeo,
Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Freddie Wadling,
Schoolly D,
Wolf Eyes,
Qualms,
Dave Gahan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Groovy Waters,
Bootsy Collins,
DJ Sneak,
Joe Smooth,
Skriet,
David Axelrod,
Todd Rundgren,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.