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 Guinea and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wally Richardson to the techno 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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Wake,
Popol Vuh,
B.T. Express,
Harmonia,
Nick Fraelich,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donny Hathaway,
Magazine,
KRS-One,
The Young Rascals,
Trumans Water,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Moody Blues,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pantytec,
Rakim,
David McCallum,
Maleditus Sound,
Yazoo,
Pierre Henry,
Jacob Miller,
The Slits,
Slave,
Wally Richardson,
Desert Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Skaos,
Todd Rundgren,
Swell Maps,
X-101,
In Retrospect,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lightning Bolt,
James White and The Blacks,
The Vogues,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Foxx,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Barracudas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Depeche Mode,
Scratch Acid,
X-Ray Spex,
Make Up,
Juan Atkins,
Kerrie Biddell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Judy Mowatt,
Malaria!,
The Cowsills,
R.M.O.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Circle Jerks,
Lungfish,
Neil Young,
Susan Cadogan,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.