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 Turkey and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 X-102 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Deadbeat,
Tommy Roe,
Eric Dolphy,
Trumans Water,
Stetsasonic,
Al Stewart,
The Saints,
This Heat,
Lindisfarne,
Nick Fraelich,
These Immortal Souls,
Monolake,
Marc Almond,
Connie Case,
Morten Harket,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Magazine,
Metal Thangz,
Flamin' Groovies,
Von Mondo,
The Modern Lovers,
Joensuu 1685,
Grauzone,
the Swans,
Davy DMX,
John Lydon,
F. McDonald,
Lyres,
Harpers Bizarre,
Echospace,
Audionom,
Deepchord,
The J.B.'s,
Gang of Four,
Ten City,
Erasure,
The Dead C,
U.S. Maple,
Danielle Patucci,
Bauhaus,
Funky Four + One,
Arab on Radar,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Techniques,
Jacob Miller,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Sherman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Slave,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amon Düül,
Agent Orange,
Fear,
The Leaves,
Stockholm Monsters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rites of Spring,
Charles Mingus,
Soulsonic Force,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.