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 Qatar and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Radio Birdman to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Urselle,
Monolake,
Severed Heads,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Zapp,
Sex Pistols,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Easy Going,
The Sound,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Circle Jerks,
K-Klass,
Tom Boy,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Saints,
Lindisfarne,
The Slackers,
Gong,
Nick Fraelich,
The Gladiators,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Last Poets,
Clear Light,
Lou Reed,
T.S.O.L.,
Ludus,
Agent Orange,
Fatback Band,
Motorama,
Terrestrial Tones,
8 Eyed Spy,
OOIOO,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Danielle Patucci,
the Swans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Laurel Aitken,
Johnny Clarke,
Suicide,
Piero Umiliani,
Procol Harum,
Smog,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Todd Terry,
Sarah Menescal,
FM Einheit,
The Searchers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Niagra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Can,
Maurizio,
Sonic Youth,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.