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 Barbados 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Toni Rubio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pagans,
Moss Icon,
The Sound,
Monolake,
Arab on Radar,
Prince Buster,
Quando Quango,
Sällskapet,
Bootsy Collins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Oblivians,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New Age Steppers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Radio Birdman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Todd Rundgren,
Brothers Johnson,
Model 500,
The Dave Clark Five,
Swell Maps,
Anakelly,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rosa Yemen,
Bronski Beat,
Faraquet,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
10cc,
Public Enemy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Absolute Body Control,
Faust,
The Count Five,
Pere Ubu,
Shuggie Otis,
Lower 48,
The Gladiators,
The Knickerbockers,
Schoolly D,
Urselle,
Subhumans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lou Christie,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Agent Orange,
The Slackers,
Eric Copeland,
UT,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cramps,
David Axelrod,
Janne Schatter,
Hot Snakes,
Michelle Simonal,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.