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 Australia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Stockholm.
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 sitar 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 Juan Atkins 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C 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?
Suburban Knight,
Al Stewart,
Liliput,
T. Rex,
Drexciya,
Au Pairs,
Joe Finger,
Ronan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Star Department,
The Flesh Eaters,
Surgeon,
Rod Modell,
Andrew Hill,
These Immortal Souls,
Lindisfarne,
Funky Four + One,
Malaria!,
The Happenings,
June of 44,
Neil Young,
Alphaville,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxy Music,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marc Almond,
Man Parrish,
World's Most,
L. Decosne,
Organ,
Pantaleimon,
The Standells,
The Cowsills,
Motorama,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crooked Eye,
Sugar Minott,
Electric Prunes,
Faraquet,
Danielle Patucci,
Camouflage,
Sarah Menescal,
Metal Thangz,
Silicon Teens,
Das Ding,
Scientists,
Bill Near,
Marvin Gaye,
the Bar-Kays,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Glambeats Corp.,
Heaven 17,
Harmonia,
The Blues Magoos,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tears for Fears,
Prince Buster,
Sun City Girls,
Byron Stingily,
Maurizio,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.