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 Czech Republic and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cheater Slicks to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
K-Klass,
Infiniti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fela Kuti,
KRS-One,
John Lydon,
Organ,
Soulsonic Force,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Trojans,
The Techniques,
Fear,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Womack,
Outsiders,
Echospace,
Model 500,
Grauzone,
Radiohead,
Stetsasonic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Graham Central Station,
Connie Case,
Glenn Branca,
Wolf Eyes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Boz Scaggs,
The Zeros,
Scan 7,
The Index,
Tropical Tobacco,
FM Einheit,
The Buckinghams,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ultravox,
The Kinks,
Hashim,
The Martian,
The Golliwogs,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Black Dice,
Newcleus,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ronnie Foster,
Bang On A Can,
Nas,
The Leaves,
Symarip,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hot Snakes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dark Day,
The Durutti Column,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lungfish,
Pet Shop Boys,
New Age Steppers,
Joe Smooth,
Schoolly D,
Rekid,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.