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 Sri Lanka and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the grunge 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
Harry Pussy,
DNA,
Hot Snakes,
The Dead C,
Ten City,
Wolf Eyes,
Public Enemy,
Kurtis Blow,
Chris Corsano,
Roxette,
Kerri Chandler,
Rod Modell,
B.T. Express,
Robert Wyatt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Faust,
Morten Harket,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Victims,
JFA,
Sandy B,
Black Sheep,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Radiohead,
Peter & Gordon,
Kas Product,
Soft Cell,
Delon & Dalcan,
Slick Rick,
The New Christs,
H. Thieme,
the Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultimate Spinach,
Con Funk Shun,
Gabor Szabo,
DJ Sneak,
The Modern Lovers,
Model 500,
Au Pairs,
Siglo XX,
Sparks,
Lungfish,
Talk Talk,
The J.B.'s,
Audionom,
Bronski Beat,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fugazi,
The Red Krayola,
Nas,
The Stooges,
Easy Going,
Procol Harum,
Icehouse,
Gang Green,
Simply Red,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.