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 Malaysia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Cybotron to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Brick,
Eddi Front,
Bootsy Collins,
Simply Red,
Minutemen,
Freddie Wadling,
Siglo XX,
Aswad,
Pylon,
Whodini,
Hasil Adkins,
Cybotron,
In Retrospect,
Anakelly,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boredoms,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harry Pussy,
Sun City Girls,
Mr. Review,
Don Cherry,
Livin' Joy,
Grauzone,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Johnny Clarke,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minnie Riperton,
Ice-T,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The J.B.'s,
Bobby Womack,
Ultravox,
Howard Jones,
Skriet,
F. McDonald,
Soulsonic Force,
These Immortal Souls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moby Grape,
Matthew Bourne,
Pere Ubu,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric B and Rakim,
OOIOO,
The Sound,
Los Fastidios,
Panda Bear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cecil Taylor,
Aloha Tigers,
Eli Mardock,
Youth Brigade,
The Leaves,
June Days,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wally Richardson,
Dark Day,
Duran Duran,
Davy DMX,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Subhumans,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.