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 Barbados and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rock 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Pussy Galore,
Tres Demented,
Moss Icon,
Sister Nancy,
Popol Vuh,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Scott Walker,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Almond,
Josef K,
Marmalade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mission of Burma,
Dave Gahan,
The J.B.'s,
Eddi Front,
Rotary Connection,
Ice-T,
Niagra,
The Red Krayola,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amazonics,
Gong,
Intrusion,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
a-ha,
In Retrospect,
Qualms,
Nas,
Blossom Toes,
Interpol,
Terry Callier,
The Trojans,
Audionom,
Anthony Braxton,
Bad Manners,
The Fortunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Roy Ayers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minnie Riperton,
Eve St. Jones,
Yaz,
Minny Pops,
The Real Kids,
Bob Dylan,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang of Four,
Unwound,
Funkadelic,
Joyce Sims,
Sandy B,
The Flesh Eaters,
Clear Light,
Tim Buckley,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.