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 Swaziland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Flag to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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 Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cameo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Con Funk Shun,
Cymande,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bronski Beat,
Warren Ellis,
Eddi Front,
Symarip,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mr. Review,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bill Near,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Germs,
Smog,
Rakim,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Yusef Lateef,
Pylon,
Mars,
cv313,
Interpol,
8 Eyed Spy,
Todd Rundgren,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jimmy McGriff,
Thompson Twins,
The Golliwogs,
Delta 5,
Zero Boys,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Circle Jerks,
Monolake,
Scratch Acid,
Marc Almond,
Ten City,
Scott Walker,
Parry Music,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lalann,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mad Mike,
The Litter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Fortunes,
K-Klass,
Robert Hood,
The Evens,
Skarface,
Amon Düül II,
Lakeside,
Glenn Branca,
U.S. Maple,
New Order,
The Slits,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.