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 Equatorial Guinea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eric Copeland to the techno 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
the Human League,
Godley & Creme,
Harry Pussy,
The Young Rascals,
Donald Byrd,
Reuben Wilson,
Neu!,
The Dead C,
John Foxx,
T.S.O.L.,
Chrome,
The Toasters,
The Last Poets,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Index,
X-101,
The Invisible,
The Vogues,
Grauzone,
John Lydon,
Wings,
Alice Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
Spoonie Gee,
Matthew Halsall,
Soul Sonic Force,
Little Man,
Crime,
Hardrive,
Second Layer,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ponytail,
The Angels of Light,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
D'Angelo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Maurizio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Shuggie Otis,
Fugazi,
Bootsy Collins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Howard Jones,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vainqueur,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Names,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Hood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Soul II Soul,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.