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 Andorra and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the dance 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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Pantaleimon,
Peter & Gordon,
The Cure,
Sam Rivers,
Scrapy,
The Martian,
Suicide,
The Barracudas,
Chris & Cosey,
ABBA,
Outsiders,
Theoretical Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Carl Craig,
Vladislav Delay,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science,
Crispian St. Peters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ronnie Foster,
Erasure,
The Durutti Column,
New York Dolls,
Zapp,
Simply Red,
Al Stewart,
Ornette Coleman,
The Knickerbockers,
Interpol,
This Heat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Japan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blossom Toes,
Barrington Levy,
Pierre Henry,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Sherman,
Procol Harum,
Blake Baxter,
10cc,
Pussy Galore,
Youth Brigade,
Oneida,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Duran Duran,
Patti Smith,
John Cale,
The Mummies,
The Searchers,
Cameo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Unrelated Segments,
Hasil Adkins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Skatalites,
Camberwell Now,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.