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 Micronesia and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bob Dylan to the dance 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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
The Wake,
Pylon,
Todd Terry,
Fear,
Minny Pops,
The Young Rascals,
Los Fastidios,
Kerri Chandler,
Marshall Jefferson,
The American Breed,
Brand Nubian,
Charles Mingus,
Scientists,
Guru Guru,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lindisfarne,
Lou Reed,
Donny Hathaway,
The Slits,
Bill Wells,
Eurythmics,
Mandrill,
Lou Christie,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nirvana,
Make Up,
Godley & Creme,
Unwound,
X-Ray Spex,
Simply Red,
The Durutti Column,
Byron Stingily,
Fad Gadget,
John Holt,
The Fire Engines,
Arthur Verocai,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Crispy Ambulance,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry's Kids,
Ornette Coleman,
Suburban Knight,
Pierre Henry,
The Stooges,
Idris Muhammad,
Joyce Sims,
Cameo,
The Fortunes,
Davy DMX,
The Sonics,
Nils Olav,
Howard Jones,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Circle Jerks,
Barry Ungar,
Glenn Branca,
Sister Nancy,
Khruangbin,
Goldenarms,
The Dead C,
Soft Cell,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.