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 Jordan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the funk 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alton Ellis,
Con Funk Shun,
Adolescents,
The Moleskins,
Absolute Body Control,
Nils Olav,
Matthew Bourne,
Half Japanese,
The Young Rascals,
The Knickerbockers,
World's Most,
ABC,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Q and Not U,
Mars,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Index,
Sexual Harrassment,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Offenders,
Moss Icon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gerry Rafferty,
Metal Thangz,
Wings,
Animal Collective,
Hashim,
Alice Coltrane,
Lalann,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Country Teasers,
Rapeman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxette,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sixth Finger,
Von Mondo,
The Misunderstood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Suicide,
Aaron Thompson,
Grey Daturas,
John Holt,
Dave Gahan,
The Fugs,
Althea and Donna,
New York Dolls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Tremeloes,
The Monks,
Boz Scaggs,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Moon,
Fugazi,
Marmalade,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.