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 Switzerland and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin 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 Big Daddy Kane to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
Roxy Music,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Modern Lovers,
David Axelrod,
The Tremeloes,
Brand Nubian,
DJ Sneak,
Visage,
Make Up,
Television,
Eve St. Jones,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ponytail,
Quando Quango,
The New Christs,
Con Funk Shun,
Jerry's Kids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Slits,
The Raincoats,
Easy Going,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Trojans,
Gong,
Bobby Womack,
DJ Style,
Hoover,
Sun City Girls,
Franke,
the Human League,
Oblivians,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angry Samoans,
A Certain Ratio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Misunderstood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Hot Snakes,
Eden Ahbez,
H. Thieme,
Curtis Mayfield,
ABC,
48th St. Collective,
Cybotron,
Drive Like Jehu,
Radio Birdman,
The United States of America,
Suicide,
Marshall Jefferson,
Judy Mowatt,
Faraquet,
Alton Ellis,
Yellowson,
World's Most,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Walker Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
Davy DMX,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.