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 Nigeria and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 T. Rex to the crunk 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Marmalade,
The Cure,
The Fall,
Zapp,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
New Order,
Connie Case,
Make Up,
This Heat,
Monolake,
the Soft Cell,
Ornette Coleman,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Slave,
Flipper,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lalo Schifrin,
Severed Heads,
X-102,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Deadbeat,
Davy DMX,
The Fire Engines,
The Gap Band,
Smog,
Depeche Mode,
The Divine Comedy,
Franke,
Sun Ra,
Silicon Teens,
The Gladiators,
Bill Near,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Maleditus Sound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harmonia,
The New Christs,
Ice-T,
The Standells,
Motorama,
Gregory Isaacs,
China Crisis,
Ken Boothe,
Matthew Halsall,
Lindisfarne,
Kaleidoscope,
Skaos,
Cybotron,
D'Angelo,
Black Bananas,
Infiniti,
Idris Muhammad,
Al Stewart,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Detroit Cobras,
Agitation Free,
Vladislav Delay,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.