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 Fiji and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Spoonie Gee to the dance 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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Barrington Levy,
Archie Shepp,
Charles Mingus,
Marvin Gaye,
Reagan Youth,
One Last Wish,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Con Funk Shun,
Man Parrish,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jacob Miller,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
Glambeats Corp.,
KRS-One,
Interpol,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Young Marble Giants,
Ponytail,
The Litter,
Grauzone,
Don Cherry,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Swans,
Mars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Amon Düül II,
Ornette Coleman,
The Residents,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cluster,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Main Source,
Magazine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gories,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kayak,
This Heat,
Marmalade,
David McCallum,
Organ,
Zapp,
Mark Hollis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
cv313,
John Holt,
The Victims,
Chrome,
The Pretty Things,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nik Kershaw,
The Golliwogs,
the Germs,
Yellowson,
U.S. Maple,
Arthur Verocai,
The Stooges,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.