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 Belgium and from Jakarta.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pet Shop Boys to the techno 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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Suburban Knight,
Hot Snakes,
Michelle Simonal,
Saccharine Trust,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Standells,
Freddie Wadling,
The Misunderstood,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jeff Mills,
Shuggie Otis,
Sun Ra,
Crooked Eye,
Pere Ubu,
Bad Manners,
F. McDonald,
Deadbeat,
Underground Resistance,
Kerri Chandler,
Agent Orange,
Al Stewart,
Ten City,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kayak,
Bootsy Collins,
Yellowson,
Clear Light,
B.T. Express,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nation of Ulysses,
X-102,
Soul II Soul,
The Seeds,
The Moody Blues,
Idris Muhammad,
Los Fastidios,
Interpol,
The Toasters,
Bob Dylan,
The Monochrome Set,
Sandy B,
Public Enemy,
Ohio Players,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Chrome,
The Cure,
Tom Boy,
Stereo Dub,
The Sonics,
Vainqueur,
Tears for Fears,
The Cowsills,
Thee Headcoats,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
Mantronix,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.