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 Mauritania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Intrusion 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Iggy Pop,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Q and Not U,
Lower 48,
Fatback Band,
The Fire Engines,
Frankie Knuckles,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Connie Case,
Leonard Cohen,
Joyce Sims,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sun Ra,
Marvin Gaye,
Inner City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
Malaria!,
The Tremeloes,
Flipper,
the Bar-Kays,
Angry Samoans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Funky Four + One,
the Human League,
Roxette,
Joy Division,
Panda Bear,
Con Funk Shun,
John Holt,
The Busters,
Moss Icon,
Deepchord,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tropical Tobacco,
Duran Duran,
Pantytec,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang Starr,
JFA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The New Christs,
PIL,
Nik Kershaw,
Althea and Donna,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pierre Henry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Radio Birdman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Juan Atkins,
Ronnie Foster,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxy Music,
Popol Vuh,
Tommy Roe,
China Crisis,
The Fall,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.