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 Yemen and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Clear Light to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Desert Stars,
Barclay James Harvest,
Darondo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David Axelrod,
Index,
Zapp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Quantec,
Magma,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Severed Heads,
Cecil Taylor,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mummies,
Bush Tetras,
Wolf Eyes,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
The Electric Prunes,
The Busters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harmonia,
Steve Hackett,
Moby Grape,
The Last Poets,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Audionom,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Glenn Branca,
the Bar-Kays,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Crash Course in Science,
DNA,
Jacques Brel,
Skriet,
La Düsseldorf,
Adolescents,
Mantronix,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nik Kershaw,
Ultravox,
Tomorrow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Hood,
FM Einheit,
Big Daddy Kane,
LL Cool J,
Althea and Donna,
Ralphi Rosario,
Alison Limerick,
Pussy Galore,
Scott Walker,
Q65,
Hoover,
Stetsasonic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Pop Group,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Peter & Gordon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.