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 Kosovo and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the grime 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
The Angels of Light,
Cybotron,
John Coltrane,
Amazonics,
David Bowie,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tears for Fears,
Ultravox,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pere Ubu,
Supertramp,
Pulsallama,
Oneida,
Patti Smith,
The Misunderstood,
Black Pus,
Con Funk Shun,
X-101,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Reagan Youth,
Neil Young,
The Real Kids,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Sherman,
The Invisible,
Monks,
The Black Dice,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Accadde A,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Section 25,
X-102,
Grauzone,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Kinks,
Panda Bear,
Siglo XX,
Althea and Donna,
Ossler,
The Gories,
Inner City,
Deadbeat,
Deakin,
Rapeman,
Silicon Teens,
Nas,
Slave,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Byrd,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Simply Red,
Grandmaster Flash,
R.M.O.,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Radio Birdman,
Franke,
Electric Prunes,
U.S. Maple,
Mandrill,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.