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 Poland and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mary Jane Girls to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Blancmange,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aaron Thompson,
Bootsy Collins,
Radiohead,
Symarip,
Barry Ungar,
Shuggie Otis,
Eve St. Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
Suburban Knight,
Franke,
Robert Hood,
Piero Umiliani,
Mary Jane Girls,
Boogie Down Productions,
Al Stewart,
Cymande,
Erykah Badu,
Unwound,
Sandy B,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
Stetsasonic,
Scion,
June of 44,
Crime,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mark Hollis,
Pylon,
The Sound,
Magazine,
Gichy Dan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Halsall,
Y Pants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jawbox,
The Standells,
The Walker Brothers,
Minor Threat,
Barbara Tucker,
Bush Tetras,
Eden Ahbez,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lalo Schifrin,
kango's stein massive,
Ornette Coleman,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gories,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Knickerbockers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tom Boy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Theoretical Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.