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 Austria and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Busters to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Max Romeo,
Public Enemy,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Whodini,
Charles Mingus,
Eve St. Jones,
Bill Wells,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Five Americans,
Circle Jerks,
Kas Product,
FM Einheit,
Marine Girls,
Harry Pussy,
The Human League,
Hot Snakes,
David McCallum,
The Birthday Party,
Harmonia,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radio Birdman,
Fluxion,
Shoche,
Wire,
The Neon Judgement,
Joensuu 1685,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nas,
Black Flag,
The Pretty Things,
The Saints,
Skriet,
Simply Red,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Babytalk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Donald Byrd,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Goldenarms,
Easy Going,
Scott Walker,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Raincoats,
Reuben Wilson,
Isaac Hayes,
Ludus,
Black Moon,
Model 500,
Electric Prunes,
Godley & Creme,
The Offenders,
Eurythmics,
ABC,
Laurel Aitken,
Niagra,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Drexciya,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.