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 Moldova and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Shanghai.
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 chamberlin 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 Freddie Wadling to the rock 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Gastr Del Sol,
A Flock of Seagulls,
La Düsseldorf,
Reagan Youth,
Schoolly D,
The Move,
Aswad,
Mark Hollis,
Brand Nubian,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Evens,
Robert Wyatt,
June Days,
Graham Central Station,
Deadbeat,
Siglo XX,
Janne Schatter,
Shuggie Otis,
Ronan,
Youth Brigade,
Wally Richardson,
T.S.O.L.,
Pussy Galore,
Ludus,
Chris Corsano,
U.S. Maple,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pantytec,
Todd Rundgren,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Carl Craig,
Interpol,
Lucky Dragons,
DJ Sneak,
The Raincoats,
Bush Tetras,
Hardrive,
Heaven 17,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sonics,
The Dirtbombs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Derrick May,
Alphaville,
Black Sheep,
The Flesh Eaters,
James White and The Blacks,
Barry Ungar,
Crispian St. Peters,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mummies,
Roy Ayers,
Eric Dolphy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Victims,
Scott Walker,
Livin' Joy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.