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 Cambodia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron 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 Juan Atkins to the grime 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Camouflage,
Banda Bassotti,
The Gun Club,
Procol Harum,
The Dirtbombs,
Little Man,
Barrington Levy,
The New Christs,
Davy DMX,
Echospace,
Quantec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mission of Burma,
The Slits,
Cybotron,
Section 25,
Marvin Gaye,
Arab on Radar,
The Pretty Things,
Byron Stingily,
Bob Dylan,
The Saints,
Alison Limerick,
Stetsasonic,
Eric B and Rakim,
T.S.O.L.,
Moby Grape,
Kurtis Blow,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Wake,
Funky Four + One,
Black Pus,
MDC,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
David Bowie,
Lindisfarne,
Nas,
Crooked Eye,
Dual Sessions,
Slave,
Lower 48,
Harmonia,
The United States of America,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bang On A Can,
Babytalk,
Rakim,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fatback Band,
Laurel Aitken,
Agent Orange,
Gerry Rafferty,
Idris Muhammad,
Newcleus,
Jacques Brel,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chris Corsano,
Sonic Youth,
Joy Division,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.