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 Israel and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 Rhythm & Sound to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Suicide,
The Flesh Eaters,
Negative Approach,
MDC,
Eden Ahbez,
The Neon Judgement,
Vainqueur,
The Velvet Underground,
Tom Boy,
Severed Heads,
Underground Resistance,
Sparks,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Womack,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ten City,
Maleditus Sound,
The Standells,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharoah Sanders,
Idris Muhammad,
Ronnie Foster,
Dead Boys,
Nico,
The Busters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mission of Burma,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Moebius,
ABBA,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Second Layer,
Tomorrow,
Juan Atkins,
Nik Kershaw,
Mark Hollis,
the Slits,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Glenn Branca,
Brick,
Bootsy Collins,
Sound Behaviour,
Robert Wyatt,
Jandek,
Josef K,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Sheep,
Oblivians,
the Human League,
Barrington Levy,
Sixth Finger,
Hashim,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Godley & Creme,
Funky Four + One,
Slave,
Clear Light,
The Stooges,
Minutemen,
Nick Fraelich,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.