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 Latvia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Victims to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Flipper,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
Albert Ayler,
Piero Umiliani,
DJ Style,
Saccharine Trust,
Grey Daturas,
Harry Pussy,
Iggy Pop,
Juan Atkins,
Gang Green,
Audionom,
Scan 7,
Organ,
Jacob Miller,
ABC,
Qualms,
Lower 48,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nico,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Funkadelic,
Loose Ends,
The Neon Judgement,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Pus,
The Beau Brummels,
Soft Cell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Youth Brigade,
Smog,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lou Reed,
The Gap Band,
The Gun Club,
Max Romeo,
Laurel Aitken,
X-102,
The Offenders,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
The Litter,
E-Dancer,
Barbara Tucker,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kerri Chandler,
Archie Shepp,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fela Kuti,
Joyce Sims,
Nirvana,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tom Boy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.