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 Lebanon and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord 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 The Remains to the crunk 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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Slick Rick,
James Chance & The Contortions,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kas Product,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
June of 44,
The Dirtbombs,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Starr,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tom Boy,
Aural Exciters,
Barbara Tucker,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eurythmics,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Royal Trux,
F. McDonald,
Harmonia,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Monolake,
The Fortunes,
Glenn Branca,
Make Up,
Wire,
Saccharine Trust,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Parrish,
World's Most,
Average White Band,
The Motions,
Quadrant,
Kevin Saunderson,
Colin Newman,
Shuggie Otis,
Henry Cow,
Ronnie Foster,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cluster,
This Heat,
The Searchers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Neu!,
Jawbox,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pole,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wally Richardson,
Tim Buckley,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fluxion,
DJ Style,
Matthew Bourne,
Funky Four + One,
Skarface,
John Coltrane,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.