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 States and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Das Ding to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Invisible,
Tropical Tobacco,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Subhumans,
Gang of Four,
Sun Ra,
DNA,
Sparks,
Kurtis Blow,
Rapeman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Television,
Graham Central Station,
Mantronix,
T. Rex,
Urselle,
The Index,
The Dirtbombs,
Stetsasonic,
Lakeside,
The Litter,
Michelle Simonal,
Harmonia,
Marine Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wally Richardson,
Iggy Pop,
Accadde A,
Scion,
Piero Umiliani,
Johnny Clarke,
The Electric Prunes,
Althea and Donna,
Unwound,
Bobby Sherman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joy Division,
Royal Trux,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
World's Most,
Godley & Creme,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dead C,
The Raincoats,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Little Man,
Circle Jerks,
Jacques Brel,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crime,
Gichy Dan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Bar-Kays,
Alison Limerick,
Tres Demented,
Hoover,
Blossom Toes,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.