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 Bhutan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Carl Craig to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
The Invisible,
Thee Headcoats,
The Tremeloes,
LL Cool J,
Rakim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Section 25,
Outsiders,
Jawbox,
Dead Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rosa Yemen,
Moebius,
Todd Terry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Interpol,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fugs,
Los Fastidios,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Excepter,
Fat Boys,
Max Romeo,
Nirvana,
Soft Machine,
Tropical Tobacco,
June of 44,
Main Source,
New York Dolls,
Nils Olav,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dead C,
Cameo,
Warsaw,
Make Up,
The Modern Lovers,
MC5,
The Last Poets,
Lyres,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
China Crisis,
Neil Young,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joyce Sims,
Zapp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Quantec,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantaleimon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Magazine,
A Certain Ratio,
Sandy B,
Youth Brigade,
Harry Pussy,
Camouflage,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Monks,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.