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 Guyana and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Whodini to the crunk 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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Andrew Hill,
Altered Images,
Scan 7,
Mandrill,
Slave,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ohio Players,
The Toasters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soul II Soul,
The Gories,
the Slits,
Johnny Clarke,
Johnny Osbourne,
The J.B.'s,
Pulsallama,
The Sound,
Roy Ayers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Malaria!,
Carl Craig,
Simply Red,
Aswad,
Youth Brigade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ornette Coleman,
Davy DMX,
Gong,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Spandau Ballet,
The Count Five,
Dead Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Bananas,
The Gladiators,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Pop Group,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ice-T,
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
Absolute Body Control,
Idris Muhammad,
Magma,
Swans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Procol Harum,
48th St. Collective,
The Angels of Light,
In Retrospect,
The Red Krayola,
The Modern Lovers,
Moss Icon,
Franke,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Silicon Teens,
Howard Jones,
D'Angelo,
Guru Guru,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.