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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
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 arpeggiator 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 Average White Band to the electroclash 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rapeman,
Hashim,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cowsills,
Gabor Szabo,
Quando Quango,
The Associates,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lakeside,
Bootsy Collins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Graham Central Station,
The Electric Prunes,
The Leaves,
Bobby Sherman,
Lightning Bolt,
Ituana,
ABC,
Joe Smooth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Swans,
Ronnie Foster,
Rod Modell,
Angry Samoans,
Outsiders,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ponytail,
Rakim,
Suburban Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Angels of Light,
David Bowie,
Tom Boy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pere Ubu,
John Coltrane,
Be Bop Deluxe,
10cc,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rufus Thomas,
Jawbox,
Procol Harum,
UT,
Interpol,
Slick Rick,
The Monks,
Saccharine Trust,
Camouflage,
The Young Rascals,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Victims,
Masters at Work,
Y Pants,
A Certain Ratio,
Drexciya,
Black Sheep,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.