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 Cyprus and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kurtis Blow to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Amazonics,
Lindisfarne,
The Saints,
Newcleus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Nik Kershaw,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Association,
Mark Hollis,
Siglo XX,
Boredoms,
Y Pants,
the Germs,
the Soft Cell,
Max Romeo,
Quando Quango,
Index,
Moss Icon,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Beau Brummels,
Lou Christie,
R.M.O.,
Joe Smooth,
Eddi Front,
Motorama,
Jerry's Kids,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lower 48,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lyres,
Marvin Gaye,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Donny Hathaway,
Amon Düül,
Leonard Cohen,
The Barracudas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joensuu 1685,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Skriet,
Susan Cadogan,
Vainqueur,
John Coltrane,
The Dead C,
EPMD,
Sam Rivers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cheater Slicks,
Iggy Pop,
Sixth Finger,
Au Pairs,
the Bar-Kays,
Soulsonic Force,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
OOIOO,
Isaac Hayes,
Arab on Radar,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.