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 Niger and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bremen.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Fat Boys,
Inner City,
China Crisis,
Max Romeo,
Whodini,
Circle Jerks,
The Invisible,
Groovy Waters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Toasters,
X-Ray Spex,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Motions,
DJ Sneak,
Delon & Dalcan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Residents,
Outsiders,
Pagans,
Dark Day,
Andrew Hill,
Janne Schatter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Durutti Column,
The Stooges,
This Heat,
JFA,
The Pretty Things,
John Holt,
Grey Daturas,
Livin' Joy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Connie Case,
Tom Boy,
Sex Pistols,
the Sonics,
Stiv Bators,
Radio Birdman,
James White and The Blacks,
Funkadelic,
Silicon Teens,
Rites of Spring,
the Soft Cell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aswad,
Radiohead,
Arthur Verocai,
Boredoms,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Qualms,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mandrill,
Roxette,
Quantec,
Moss Icon,
Bill Near,
Television,
Kevin Saunderson,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.