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 Palau and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Big Daddy Kane,
48th St. Collective,
Infiniti,
David Axelrod,
Black Pus,
Pierre Henry,
Sparks,
Japan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sam Rivers,
Boz Scaggs,
Mr. Review,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Masters at Work,
The Cramps,
Harpers Bizarre,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Adolescents,
Kerri Chandler,
Erykah Badu,
Aural Exciters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Sheep,
Max Romeo,
Newcleus,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pole,
Gang Green,
Lungfish,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Spoonie Gee,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Duran Duran,
Man Parrish,
Michelle Simonal,
Kas Product,
Magazine,
Letta Mbulu,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Black Dice,
Ronan,
John Cale,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sex Pistols,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mad Mike,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Grass Roots,
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Flag,
Fela Kuti,
The Techniques,
Von Mondo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Malaria!,
David Bowie,
Aloha Tigers,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.