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 Sweden and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Qualms,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül II,
Newcleus,
Drexciya,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DNA,
The Techniques,
The New Christs,
The Modern Lovers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eve St. Jones,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soul II Soul,
the Association,
Scientists,
Nils Olav,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bronski Beat,
Marine Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ronnie Foster,
Sun Ra,
John Holt,
Blake Baxter,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nik Kershaw,
Ultravox,
R.M.O.,
Scan 7,
Joe Finger,
Gregory Isaacs,
Johnny Clarke,
Joensuu 1685,
Gichy Dan,
Angry Samoans,
Letta Mbulu,
Rites of Spring,
Index,
The United States of America,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Saints,
Kerri Chandler,
The Grass Roots,
Pylon,
Minor Threat,
Hot Snakes,
Man Parrish,
Malaria!,
Tom Boy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Electric Prunes,
Freddie Wadling,
Bill Near,
The Human League,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ultra Naté,
Main Source,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.