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 Netherlands and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Holger Czukay 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 CMW to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Young Marble Giants,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Lydon,
Scott Walker,
Soft Cell,
The Litter,
Gang Green,
Unwound,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Suicide,
The Stooges,
June Days,
Sugar Minott,
Harry Pussy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dawn Penn,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wings,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Niagra,
MDC,
The Mojo Men,
Khruangbin,
Sun Ra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mad Mike,
Supertramp,
The Gun Club,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rakim,
The Monks,
Eli Mardock,
Thompson Twins,
Lungfish,
Bronski Beat,
Brick,
The Gories,
The Index,
Lebanon Hanover,
T. Rex,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cymande,
Smog,
Slick Rick,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Darondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Traffic Nightmare,
Little Man,
Index,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scrapy,
Zero Boys,
Alphaville,
the Germs,
Michelle Simonal,
Barrington Levy,
The Pretty Things,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.