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 Antigua and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare 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 the Slits to the techno 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Lebanon Hanover,
Anakelly,
Chris & Cosey,
Skarface,
cv313,
Brothers Johnson,
Fela Kuti,
Gregory Isaacs,
UT,
Unrelated Segments,
Althea and Donna,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Minny Pops,
The Moody Blues,
The Monochrome Set,
Tommy Roe,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang Starr,
Graham Central Station,
Banda Bassotti,
Slave,
EPMD,
Lindisfarne,
Robert Hood,
These Immortal Souls,
Maurizio,
Y Pants,
Adolescents,
Blossom Toes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Mojo Men,
Intrusion,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pulsallama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Archie Shepp,
Altered Images,
Audionom,
Amon Düül II,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Slackers,
Sugar Minott,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Selecter,
Andrew Hill,
Robert Wyatt,
Whodini,
F. McDonald,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Piero Umiliani,
The Star Department,
Max Romeo,
Khruangbin,
Infiniti,
Desert Stars,
Kerri Chandler,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.