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 Latvia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron 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 Metal Thangz to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Angry Samoans,
Excepter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fear,
The Moody Blues,
Radio Birdman,
Donald Byrd,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Avey Tare,
the Human League,
Michelle Simonal,
Gil Scott Heron,
Spoonie Gee,
Tubeway Army,
Alton Ellis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joensuu 1685,
Underground Resistance,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fortunes,
John Lydon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rapeman,
Talk Talk,
Deakin,
Minor Threat,
Glambeats Corp.,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
Hashim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Count Five,
Erasure,
The Techniques,
The Barracudas,
Chris Corsano,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Sound,
F. McDonald,
Ultravox,
Dark Day,
China Crisis,
T.S.O.L.,
Franke,
Cameo,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Index,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Sherman,
In Retrospect,
The Real Kids,
Siglo XX,
The Cramps,
Smog,
Howard Jones,
Icehouse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.