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 Ireland and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cluster to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
T. Rex,
The Slackers,
Average White Band,
Gichy Dan,
Shuggie Otis,
The Offenders,
Royal Trux,
Joyce Sims,
Ponytail,
Delta 5,
The Walker Brothers,
Man Parrish,
Fluxion,
Scratch Acid,
Lakeside,
The Knickerbockers,
Essential Logic,
Loose Ends,
Deadbeat,
Quando Quango,
This Heat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aaron Thompson,
The Moleskins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Avey Tare,
Soft Cell,
Vainqueur,
Juan Atkins,
Fad Gadget,
Aloha Tigers,
Easy Going,
Robert Hood,
Barbara Tucker,
The Electric Prunes,
The Stooges,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Radiohead,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Pretty Things,
Darondo,
Negative Approach,
T.S.O.L.,
ABBA,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Görl,
Audionom,
Theoretical Girls,
Pierre Henry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
JFA,
David Bowie,
Cal Tjader,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pagans,
Groovy Waters,
Flamin' Groovies,
Oneida,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jacques Brel,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.