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 Liechtenstein and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Robert Görl to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Young Marble Giants,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Flag,
Half Japanese,
the Slits,
New Age Steppers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Supertramp,
Desert Stars,
Minutemen,
John Holt,
Ossler,
Thompson Twins,
H. Thieme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sonics,
Gastr Del Sol,
Make Up,
Reuben Wilson,
Television,
Chris Corsano,
Morten Harket,
Amazonics,
Marc Almond,
the Soft Cell,
The Monochrome Set,
Ultravox,
Mission of Burma,
Tom Boy,
Easy Going,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Piero Umiliani,
Mr. Review,
Schoolly D,
Negative Approach,
Malaria!,
Don Cherry,
The Dirtbombs,
Rakim,
Nick Fraelich,
Accadde A,
Ten City,
The Young Rascals,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gang of Four,
Cal Tjader,
The Martian,
Derrick Morgan,
The Searchers,
Nas,
Barrington Levy,
Steve Hackett,
JFA,
Faraquet,
Crooked Eye,
Dawn Penn,
Brand Nubian,
David Axelrod,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Invisible,
Rosa Yemen,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.