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 Suriname and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ 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 Junior Murvin to the grime 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rod Modell,
Danielle Patucci,
Quadrant,
Simply Red,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Certain Ratio,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
PIL,
Young Marble Giants,
Warsaw,
Bobby Sherman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Laurel Aitken,
The Stooges,
48th St. Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Kinks,
Lakeside,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pulsallama,
Ice-T,
David Axelrod,
Sparks,
The Monks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Surgeon,
The Smiths,
Bobby Byrd,
Arab on Radar,
X-101,
Nirvana,
Pere Ubu,
Ralphi Rosario,
Peter & Gordon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
The Names,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minnie Riperton,
Organ,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Index,
the Germs,
The Index,
Eurythmics,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Five Americans,
Underground Resistance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang Green,
The New Christs,
Negative Approach,
Swans,
Country Teasers,
The Golliwogs,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.