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 Palau and from Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sisters of Mercy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Rhythm & Sound,
Yellowson,
D'Angelo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Althea and Donna,
Agent Orange,
Easy Going,
The Happenings,
10cc,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Raincoats,
Severed Heads,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nas,
Yaz,
The Names,
Juan Atkins,
Eli Mardock,
Suburban Knight,
Neu!,
Lou Reed,
Scion,
48th St. Collective,
Dawn Penn,
Lungfish,
Underground Resistance,
Crispian St. Peters,
Suicide,
Junior Murvin,
Blake Baxter,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Faraquet,
Soft Cell,
Henry Cow,
Flipper,
New Age Steppers,
Index,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lucky Dragons,
Buzzcocks,
Crooked Eye,
U.S. Maple,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Deepchord,
David Axelrod,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Donald Byrd,
The Selecter,
H. Thieme,
Fear,
Patti Smith,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Searchers,
Stiv Bators,
Sugar Minott,
Technova,
Bobby Byrd,
Jeru the Damaja,
New York Dolls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Aaron Thompson,
Malaria!,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
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.