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 Mauritius and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer 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 Minor Threat to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
The Index,
James White and The Blacks,
Leonard Cohen,
MDC,
Grauzone,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Tremeloes,
Patti Smith,
Man Eating Sloth,
Electric Prunes,
Nico,
Barrington Levy,
Rakim,
Accadde A,
These Immortal Souls,
Cymande,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
The Buckinghams,
Can,
Archie Shepp,
Yaz,
The Happenings,
Sight & Sound,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fugazi,
Easy Going,
Underground Resistance,
Brothers Johnson,
Dead Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Neon Judgement,
Connie Case,
Public Enemy,
Max Romeo,
Tubeway Army,
Bronski Beat,
Girls At Our Best!,
Motorama,
Pulsallama,
World's Most,
Animal Collective,
Matthew Halsall,
Interpol,
Pole,
Black Flag,
Joe Smooth,
The American Breed,
Monks,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Swell Maps,
The Cramps,
Althea and Donna,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.