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 Comoros and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eric Copeland to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Susan Cadogan,
AZ,
Eric Dolphy,
David Axelrod,
Ultra Naté,
Loose Ends,
Sällskapet,
Pantytec,
Sun City Girls,
Pulsallama,
Camouflage,
Angry Samoans,
Joe Smooth,
Electric Prunes,
Gang of Four,
DJ Sneak,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Archie Shepp,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry's Kids,
Au Pairs,
Graham Central Station,
Amazonics,
The Zeros,
Faraquet,
Anakelly,
Pantaleimon,
Echospace,
Byron Stingily,
Robert Görl,
The Remains,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Malaria!,
Bill Wells,
Faust,
Juan Atkins,
Von Mondo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Althea and Donna,
Harry Pussy,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Music Machine,
Desert Stars,
Panda Bear,
Gang Green,
Cameo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Silicon Teens,
The Monks,
The Associates,
The Mummies,
Marmalade,
The Skatalites,
Kool Moe Dee,
Soulsonic Force,
Lou Christie,
Laurel Aitken,
Wally Richardson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.