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 Sri Lanka and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 Marc Almond to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Marcia Griffiths,
Neil Young,
Radio Birdman,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Patti Smith,
Slick Rick,
Brothers Johnson,
The Divine Comedy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wolf Eyes,
The New Christs,
Chris & Cosey,
Fat Boys,
Ice-T,
The Grass Roots,
Fad Gadget,
Boz Scaggs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eric Dolphy,
The Mummies,
Marvin Gaye,
Isaac Hayes,
T.S.O.L.,
Flipper,
Von Mondo,
Chris Corsano,
Eddi Front,
Electric Prunes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Terry Callier,
Sister Nancy,
Joensuu 1685,
Gichy Dan,
The J.B.'s,
Stetsasonic,
Cymande,
Spoonie Gee,
Blake Baxter,
Minor Threat,
Minnie Riperton,
The Busters,
Maurizio,
X-Ray Spex,
Zero Boys,
The Martian,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scientists,
the Sonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kevin Saunderson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Carl Craig,
the Soft Cell,
Bobby Sherman,
Todd Terry,
Scion,
Eric B and Rakim,
Albert Ayler,
Radiohead,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.