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 Somalia and from Paris.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 David McCallum to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
U.S. Maple,
Donny Hathaway,
Kurtis Blow,
The Detroit Cobras,
Inner City,
Harry Pussy,
Silicon Teens,
Deakin,
John Cale,
Funkadelic,
The Leaves,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deadbeat,
Pagans,
X-101,
Bill Near,
Whodini,
Dual Sessions,
Harmonia,
Black Pus,
Zero Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tubeway Army,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Erykah Badu,
Clear Light,
Pylon,
Soft Cell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Heaven 17,
The Offenders,
Ornette Coleman,
The Count Five,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cramps,
the Germs,
Hardrive,
Lou Christie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gladiators,
The Dead C,
48th St. Collective,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Schoolly D,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
K-Klass,
Can,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Modern Lovers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wings,
Radiohead,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dennis Brown,
Eric B and Rakim,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.