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 Brazil and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sexual Harrassment to the crunk 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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
The Dirtbombs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The American Breed,
Youth Brigade,
Delta 5,
Erasure,
Sam Rivers,
Michelle Simonal,
Hardrive,
L. Decosne,
Aloha Tigers,
Scion,
H. Thieme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stetsasonic,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Country Teasers,
The Cramps,
The Litter,
MC5,
Dark Day,
Ultravox,
Radiohead,
Ornette Coleman,
Freddie Wadling,
Ossler,
The Skatalites,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Niagra,
Bill Near,
Rufus Thomas,
Adolescents,
Motorama,
The Fugs,
Minor Threat,
Alison Limerick,
Morten Harket,
Fat Boys,
Symarip,
Rhythm & Sound,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric Copeland,
Skriet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
X-101,
Barbara Tucker,
Mo-Dettes,
Fad Gadget,
Spoonie Gee,
Yaz,
Peter and Kerry,
Procol Harum,
Cecil Taylor,
Boz Scaggs,
X-Ray Spex,
The Victims,
The Fire Engines,
Gichy Dan,
Das Ding,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.