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 Bhutan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Connie Case,
Eurythmics,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Excepter,
Oblivians,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dave Gahan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Godley & Creme,
Pantytec,
Funkadelic,
Thee Headcoats,
Scott Walker,
Jeru the Damaja,
Inner City,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ronnie Foster,
Alphaville,
The Smiths,
X-101,
Amazonics,
Fluxion,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Accadde A,
Joe Finger,
John Holt,
Absolute Body Control,
Bang On A Can,
Basic Channel,
Skarface,
Judy Mowatt,
Matthew Bourne,
Yaz,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Leaves,
Hashim,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pussy Galore,
Kenny Larkin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Normal,
Stereo Dub,
Buzzcocks,
Simply Red,
Quantec,
Gang Gang Dance,
Arab on Radar,
Moebius,
Michelle Simonal,
EPMD,
Sister Nancy,
Au Pairs,
Circle Jerks,
Can,
Hoover,
The Trojans,
Scientists,
Tim Buckley,
Vladislav Delay,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.