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 Algeria and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Aswad to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nils Olav,
Roger Hodgson,
Infiniti,
The Neon Judgement,
Stockholm Monsters,
June Days,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bobby Womack,
Wolf Eyes,
OOIOO,
Excepter,
Bang On A Can,
Thee Headcoats,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Zeros,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Sheep,
The Offenders,
Symarip,
Black Moon,
John Foxx,
Soft Machine,
Pussy Galore,
MC5,
Index,
Darondo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
James White and The Blacks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Spoonie Gee,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dawn Penn,
Aaron Thompson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Liliput,
DJ Style,
Jeff Lynne,
Unrelated Segments,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Delta 5,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Erykah Badu,
Henry Cow,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Leonard Cohen,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Heaven 17,
One Last Wish,
Glenn Branca,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.