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 Micronesia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 June of 44 to the disco 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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Das Ding,
Deadbeat,
The Victims,
The Modern Lovers,
The Raincoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Stooges,
Cymande,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deepchord,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mission of Burma,
Mars,
PIL,
Mantronix,
Chris & Cosey,
Excepter,
Gang Green,
Crispy Ambulance,
Connie Case,
Sparks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Cramps,
Nick Fraelich,
Dead Boys,
Robert Hood,
Jimmy McGriff,
Unwound,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ten City,
Masters at Work,
Wolf Eyes,
KRS-One,
Tommy Roe,
Absolute Body Control,
Patti Smith,
the Swans,
Darondo,
Cecil Taylor,
Johnny Clarke,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Suicide,
The Birthday Party,
Judy Mowatt,
Marvin Gaye,
Minor Threat,
The Electric Prunes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Howard Jones,
Black Bananas,
The Names,
Funkadelic,
Rakim,
The Fall,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.