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 Saudi Arabia and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro 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 Johnny Clarke 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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Drive Like Jehu,
Moebius,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Move,
The Seeds,
Flash Fearless,
Drexciya,
the Bar-Kays,
The Zeros,
Tomorrow,
Aaron Thompson,
Fat Boys,
Joe Smooth,
Siglo XX,
Angry Samoans,
Amazonics,
Sister Nancy,
Neil Young,
Babytalk,
Joey Negro,
Michelle Simonal,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stiv Bators,
The Fall,
Parry Music,
Saccharine Trust,
Chris Corsano,
Funkadelic,
Mark Hollis,
the Human League,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rites of Spring,
48th St. Collective,
Wire,
Brothers Johnson,
The Happenings,
Circle Jerks,
The Fortunes,
The Human League,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gang Starr,
Connie Case,
Byron Stingily,
Ice-T,
Shoche,
The Martian,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mr. Review,
Porter Ricks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Minutemen,
Al Stewart,
K-Klass,
Sixth Finger,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.