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 United Kingdom and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Offenders to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Lakeside,
Blake Baxter,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Steve Hackett,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Model 500,
Jerry's Kids,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Prince Buster,
Curtis Mayfield,
F. McDonald,
Con Funk Shun,
The Sound,
Alphaville,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scion,
the Normal,
Y Pants,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Slackers,
Tubeway Army,
Michelle Simonal,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hot Snakes,
Easy Going,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Gun Club,
Max Romeo,
kango's stein massive,
The Monochrome Set,
Rites of Spring,
Yaz,
Funky Four + One,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun City Girls,
The Doobie Brothers,
cv313,
Sixth Finger,
Rosa Yemen,
The New Christs,
T.S.O.L.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pulsallama,
The Golliwogs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tres Demented,
Grey Daturas,
UT,
Hasil Adkins,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Sonics,
Morten Harket,
David Bowie,
Skarface,
the Slits,
X-102,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.