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 Romania and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the dance 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Dead Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gichy Dan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skriet,
Malaria!,
Y Pants,
Danielle Patucci,
D'Angelo,
The Dead C,
Sparks,
Con Funk Shun,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Public Enemy,
Anakelly,
The Associates,
Jeff Lynne,
Aloha Tigers,
Bluetip,
Boredoms,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gun Club,
The Selecter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ludus,
Can,
Hot Snakes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Duran Duran,
Gang Starr,
The Sound,
Interpol,
DNA,
Letta Mbulu,
Rhythm & Sound,
Patti Smith,
Ken Boothe,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lungfish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Motorama,
Hashim,
Los Fastidios,
Reagan Youth,
Grey Daturas,
Surgeon,
The Real Kids,
World's Most,
Slave,
Warsaw,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.