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 Turkmenistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 June of 44 to the rock 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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
ABBA,
Kerri Chandler,
Marvin Gaye,
Cal Tjader,
Dead Boys,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sandy B,
Aswad,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brick,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Barracudas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joey Negro,
The Saints,
Mad Mike,
Second Layer,
Toni Rubio,
The Trojans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Last Poets,
Henry Cow,
Steve Hackett,
Roger Hodgson,
Bad Manners,
Scratch Acid,
Cecil Taylor,
John Holt,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang Green,
Grey Daturas,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Byrd,
David Axelrod,
Khruangbin,
The Moleskins,
Jimmy McGriff,
Simply Red,
Los Fastidios,
Sunsets and Hearts,
China Crisis,
June Days,
Rosa Yemen,
The Standells,
The New Christs,
Rod Modell,
Bootsy Collins,
Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
The Grass Roots,
Chris & Cosey,
Boogie Down Productions,
Anakelly,
Eric B and Rakim,
Derrick Morgan,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.