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 Malaysia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 D'Angelo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Theoretical Girls,
The Misunderstood,
Bauhaus,
David Axelrod,
The Zeros,
These Immortal Souls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Donald Byrd,
L. Decosne,
David Bowie,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minor Threat,
Saccharine Trust,
X-101,
JFA,
Sandy B,
Bad Manners,
Ice-T,
Nirvana,
John Lydon,
Tubeway Army,
Juan Atkins,
Sällskapet,
Mission of Burma,
Minny Pops,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Gun Club,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arab on Radar,
U.S. Maple,
Ohio Players,
Royal Trux,
Gang Green,
David McCallum,
The Seeds,
Spoonie Gee,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Johnny Clarke,
The Wake,
Harpers Bizarre,
The New Christs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crime,
Joey Negro,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tommy Roe,
The Birthday Party,
Erasure,
Kurtis Blow,
Average White Band,
Siglo XX,
Max Romeo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Kinks,
The Five Americans,
Absolute Body Control,
DJ Style,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Byrd,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.