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 Paraguay and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 F. McDonald to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Soulsonic Force,
Dead Boys,
The Last Poets,
Derrick Morgan,
Yellowson,
The Index,
Prince Buster,
Crash Course in Science,
Lindisfarne,
Ronnie Foster,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harry Pussy,
The Names,
Dual Sessions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Don Cherry,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Finger,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Public Enemy,
Flamin' Groovies,
MDC,
The Neon Judgement,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Heaven 17,
Camberwell Now,
Camouflage,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
David Bowie,
Royal Trux,
Youth Brigade,
Bauhaus,
Johnny Clarke,
Deadbeat,
Hardrive,
The Remains,
The Star Department,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Stooges,
Man Eating Sloth,
Accadde A,
Trumans Water,
Popol Vuh,
Bob Dylan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Goldenarms,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Mojo Men,
Porter Ricks,
Nirvana,
Outsiders,
Freddie Wadling,
The Misunderstood,
Wings,
Susan Cadogan,
Sound Behaviour,
Swell Maps,
Harmonia,
cv313,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.