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 Czech Republic and from Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba 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 Television Personalities to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Gang Green,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Maleditus Sound,
ABBA,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Malaria!,
Shuggie Otis,
Radiohead,
the Normal,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Man Eating Sloth,
Man Parrish,
Stiv Bators,
Surgeon,
Anakelly,
Aswad,
Lalann,
Cameo,
Eric B and Rakim,
JFA,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Icehouse,
Dead Boys,
Sam Rivers,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ultra Naté,
John Lydon,
Nik Kershaw,
Index,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Walker Brothers,
Yaz,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Womack,
June Days,
The J.B.'s,
The Toasters,
Davy DMX,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Make Up,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mr. Review,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Divine Comedy,
David Bowie,
Skarface,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Technova,
Dorothy Ashby,
Warsaw,
The Victims,
Pulsallama,
Wire,
John Coltrane,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.