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 Iran and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Susan Cadogan,
The Music Machine,
The Cure,
The Modern Lovers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Junior Murvin,
Steve Hackett,
F. McDonald,
The Dead C,
Adolescents,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Victims,
Yazoo,
Judy Mowatt,
One Last Wish,
Vainqueur,
Fluxion,
X-102,
Byron Stingily,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Archie Shepp,
Young Marble Giants,
Mission of Burma,
Al Stewart,
Panda Bear,
B.T. Express,
Soul Sonic Force,
Crime,
Lalo Schifrin,
Agitation Free,
The Raincoats,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Anakelly,
Pere Ubu,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Toasters,
Crash Course in Science,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
The Barracudas,
Rites of Spring,
Camouflage,
Monks,
Jerry's Kids,
K-Klass,
The Move,
Chrome,
Wasted Youth,
The Standells,
Lindisfarne,
Kurtis Blow,
Lakeside,
Carl Craig,
Model 500,
U.S. Maple,
Kerrie Biddell,
Man Parrish,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.