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 Korea North and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sandy B to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Warsaw,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
Bill Wells,
Jawbox,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Main Source,
Black Sheep,
the Soft Cell,
James White and The Blacks,
Mantronix,
The Last Poets,
the Human League,
Thee Headcoats,
The Associates,
Ronnie Foster,
the Swans,
The Stooges,
Kurtis Blow,
Franke,
Zapp,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tim Buckley,
Rakim,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultra Naté,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hashim,
L. Decosne,
Don Cherry,
MDC,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bootsy Collins,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Young Rascals,
Chris Corsano,
The Raincoats,
The Kinks,
Boogie Down Productions,
New Age Steppers,
Urselle,
The Names,
Sällskapet,
Erasure,
Eve St. Jones,
Cluster,
Lalo Schifrin,
Yusef Lateef,
the Normal,
D'Angelo,
Lyres,
Gang Green,
Lucky Dragons,
Boredoms,
The Sound,
Nico,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Iggy Pop,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Barbara Tucker,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.