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 Kenya and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Judy Mowatt to the dance 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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring 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?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Knickerbockers,
Harry Pussy,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Selecter,
Blossom Toes,
Model 500,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Japan,
Young Marble Giants,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blake Baxter,
EPMD,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Victims,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Gap Band,
the Association,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hasil Adkins,
Public Enemy,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Slits,
Brick,
Joy Division,
Supertramp,
Bill Wells,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Q and Not U,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Skaos,
Jacques Brel,
Tim Buckley,
Sun City Girls,
The J.B.'s,
Stiv Bators,
Hoover,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fire Engines,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Doors,
Second Layer,
Soft Cell,
Essential Logic,
Joe Finger,
Parry Music,
Fatback Band,
John Lydon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Alphaville,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bootsy Collins,
48th St. Collective,
Trumans Water,
One Last Wish,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
New Order,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
D'Angelo,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.