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 Fiji and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 F. McDonald to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Oneida,
Drexciya,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
Don Cherry,
Boz Scaggs,
Harry Pussy,
Bauhaus,
T. Rex,
Wolf Eyes,
Connie Case,
Yazoo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Suburban Knight,
Hoover,
U.S. Maple,
Public Enemy,
Simply Red,
Chris Corsano,
Fatback Band,
Susan Cadogan,
The Move,
Bronski Beat,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Slave,
Joe Finger,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Sneak,
Motorama,
Alice Coltrane,
Nirvana,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Clear Light,
Sound Behaviour,
Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Young Rascals,
Tubeway Army,
Scion,
The Sonics,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Warren Ellis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Deakin,
Eurythmics,
Infiniti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Sound,
The Toasters,
Roxette,
Eddi Front,
Gichy Dan,
The Happenings,
The Vogues,
The Knickerbockers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tears for Fears,
The Busters,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.