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 Oman and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Graham Central Station to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
The Smoke,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
DNA,
Harry Pussy,
MC5,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Unwound,
Laurel Aitken,
Stiv Bators,
Connie Case,
Davy DMX,
Juan Atkins,
The Pop Group,
Suicide,
Mission of Burma,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Toasters,
Mars,
Minnie Riperton,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Pretty Things,
Trumans Water,
Faust,
The Gories,
The Residents,
Outsiders,
Neil Young,
Young Marble Giants,
Altered Images,
Boredoms,
Unrelated Segments,
Morten Harket,
X-102,
June of 44,
The Trojans,
Das Ding,
The Fortunes,
World's Most,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sun Ra,
Hot Snakes,
The Grass Roots,
Henry Cow,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Count Five,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ice-T,
Soft Cell,
Scrapy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Schoolly D,
Amon Düül II,
Masters at Work,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Metal Thangz,
Make Up,
John Cale,
The Smiths,
The Neon Judgement,
Jeff Lynne,
Deakin,
Massinfluence,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.