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 Brunei and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 The Fall to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lebanon Hanover,
Don Cherry,
Joe Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Carl Craig,
Bootsy Collins,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Magazine,
Arab on Radar,
Gil Scott Heron,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Yaz,
Eurythmics,
Fear,
Toni Rubio,
New York Dolls,
Jerry's Kids,
Scratch Acid,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marshall Jefferson,
Amazonics,
AZ,
The Saints,
Altered Images,
Joe Finger,
Minny Pops,
Sight & Sound,
Television,
Freddie Wadling,
LL Cool J,
Banda Bassotti,
Sarah Menescal,
Joy Division,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Gun Club,
Popol Vuh,
Wally Richardson,
Wolf Eyes,
U.S. Maple,
The Velvet Underground,
Lalann,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Aswad,
Talk Talk,
Make Up,
The Stooges,
Minutemen,
Scott Walker,
Howard Jones,
Grandmaster Flash,
David Bowie,
Interpol,
Surgeon,
The Pop Group,
Q and Not U,
EPMD,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jeff Lynne,
The Last Poets,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.