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 Madagascar and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 The Slits to the rap 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Fugazi,
Crispian St. Peters,
Massinfluence,
June Days,
Inner City,
the Normal,
Derrick Morgan,
Infiniti,
Neil Young,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gories,
The Red Krayola,
Gabor Szabo,
Slick Rick,
The Human League,
the Slits,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fire Engines,
Alice Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Al Stewart,
Suburban Knight,
The Buckinghams,
The Techniques,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeff Lynne,
Motorama,
Jacques Brel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Michelle Simonal,
The Mojo Men,
Erykah Badu,
Althea and Donna,
The Last Poets,
Grauzone,
Patti Smith,
Ponytail,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Soft Machine,
John Cale,
Camouflage,
EPMD,
Juan Atkins,
a-ha,
Con Funk Shun,
Stetsasonic,
X-101,
Iggy Pop,
David Axelrod,
Khruangbin,
X-102,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rhythm & Sound,
David McCallum,
Fad Gadget,
The Selecter,
Magazine,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock 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.