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 Vanuatu and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 T. Rex to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Shuggie Otis,
Sonic Youth,
Maleditus Sound,
Amon Düül,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Davy DMX,
The Martian,
The Dirtbombs,
The Electric Prunes,
E-Dancer,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ice-T,
MC5,
Sugar Minott,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Skatalites,
Saccharine Trust,
Toni Rubio,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Thompson Twins,
The New Christs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Heaven 17,
Johnny Osbourne,
Average White Band,
Schoolly D,
Talk Talk,
New Age Steppers,
Kayak,
Blancmange,
Scratch Acid,
Youth Brigade,
The Dave Clark Five,
Spoonie Gee,
Adolescents,
Janne Schatter,
Henry Cow,
Can,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Derrick May,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Warren Ellis,
David Axelrod,
Cal Tjader,
Wire,
The Music Machine,
Max Romeo,
Ultra Naté,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Soft Cell,
The Star Department,
Kaleidoscope,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gun Club,
the Sonics,
the Bar-Kays,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.