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 Dominican Republic and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Brass Construction to the grunge 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet 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 rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The Doors,
Little Man,
The Electric Prunes,
Brothers Johnson,
The Last Poets,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Flamin' Groovies,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Althea and Donna,
The Smoke,
UT,
Eli Mardock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Robert Hood,
Desert Stars,
Susan Cadogan,
Nick Fraelich,
David Axelrod,
Wings,
The Barracudas,
Clear Light,
Minnie Riperton,
Brand Nubian,
The Victims,
JFA,
The Young Rascals,
Bob Dylan,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerrie Biddell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ituana,
Malaria!,
Vladislav Delay,
Alphaville,
Stereo Dub,
Monks,
Jawbox,
Minny Pops,
Arthur Verocai,
Janne Schatter,
Mo-Dettes,
Agitation Free,
The Fuzztones,
Electric Prunes,
Sun City Girls,
B.T. Express,
Young Marble Giants,
the Normal,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
Skaos,
Royal Trux,
Gong,
Funkadelic,
Y Pants,
David McCallum,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Von Mondo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.