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 Vanuatu and from Jakarta.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the grunge 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Rapeman,
Bauhaus,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Electric Prunes,
Circle Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
Das Ding,
Colin Newman,
James White and The Blacks,
the Germs,
Cal Tjader,
Godley & Creme,
The Trojans,
Monks,
Danielle Patucci,
KRS-One,
The Standells,
Yusef Lateef,
Crash Course in Science,
Skriet,
The Star Department,
Country Teasers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Christie,
Nick Fraelich,
Skarface,
The Blues Magoos,
Magazine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Maurizio,
The Golliwogs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Connie Case,
Lakeside,
Vladislav Delay,
Eli Mardock,
the Bar-Kays,
David McCallum,
Mandrill,
Tres Demented,
Judy Mowatt,
The American Breed,
The Zeros,
The Red Krayola,
Letta Mbulu,
Kevin Saunderson,
Khruangbin,
Chris Corsano,
Lebanon Hanover,
Groovy Waters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Graham Central Station,
Bill Near,
Brick,
Henry Cow,
Ornette Coleman,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.