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 Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin 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 The Fugs to the funk 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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Thee Headcoats,
Donald Byrd,
kango's stein massive,
Minor Threat,
Todd Terry,
Marvin Gaye,
Erasure,
Black Bananas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Stiv Bators,
Glenn Branca,
X-Ray Spex,
The Last Poets,
Byron Stingily,
The Doobie Brothers,
Y Pants,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boogie Down Productions,
Infiniti,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Delta 5,
the Bar-Kays,
Bootsy Collins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sex Pistols,
Pole,
This Heat,
The Gladiators,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kevin Saunderson,
Iggy Pop,
Black Pus,
John Foxx,
The Stooges,
Danielle Patucci,
John Coltrane,
Brick,
The Standells,
Grauzone,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vainqueur,
The Alarm Clocks,
Surgeon,
Derrick May,
Inner City,
Marine Girls,
Brand Nubian,
Echospace,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Quando Quango,
Sam Rivers,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Flag,
Parry Music,
Soul Sonic Force,
Liliput,
Ultravox,
Shuggie Otis,
Siglo XX,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Sonics,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.
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.