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 Accra.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sight & Sound to the techno 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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fortunes,
Sam Rivers,
The Smoke,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cecil Taylor,
Con Funk Shun,
Soft Cell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Young Marble Giants,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Residents,
Bush Tetras,
Harry Pussy,
Arthur Verocai,
Stiv Bators,
Andrew Hill,
Von Mondo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The J.B.'s,
Average White Band,
Minutemen,
The Grass Roots,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
10cc,
Cymande,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cramps,
The Standells,
Dave Gahan,
Suicide,
Can,
Second Layer,
Eurythmics,
Neu!,
Siglo XX,
Brick,
Qualms,
Mary Jane Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Inner City,
World's Most,
The Golliwogs,
Television,
Pantaleimon,
The Young Rascals,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Q65,
Marvin Gaye,
Mission of Burma,
Ice-T,
The Kinks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Beau Brummels,
John Foxx,
Bad Manners,
the Slits,
KRS-One,
Crispian St. Peters,
Harpers Bizarre,
China Crisis,
Nico,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.