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 Pakistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 The Happenings to the rap 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Young Marble Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Circle Jerks,
Charles Mingus,
EPMD,
Japan,
The Dirtbombs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bronski Beat,
Essential Logic,
The Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
Gang of Four,
Juan Atkins,
cv313,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Association,
Flamin' Groovies,
Shoche,
Swell Maps,
Bad Manners,
Nas,
The Blackbyrds,
New Age Steppers,
Funky Four + One,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Pop Group,
Marc Almond,
Ornette Coleman,
X-Ray Spex,
One Last Wish,
Rosa Yemen,
E-Dancer,
Hasil Adkins,
Fugazi,
Todd Rundgren,
Cymande,
Ossler,
Spandau Ballet,
Moby Grape,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Section 25,
Fat Boys,
The Fire Engines,
Youth Brigade,
The Techniques,
DJ Sneak,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Hot Snakes,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dark Day,
Wasted Youth,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
Scientists,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.