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 Ecuador and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Slick Rick to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Busters,
Cymande,
Whodini,
Marine Girls,
Unrelated Segments,
Pere Ubu,
The Index,
The Mojo Men,
Stetsasonic,
Black Sheep,
The Flesh Eaters,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slackers,
James White and The Blacks,
June of 44,
Slave,
Grey Daturas,
Fela Kuti,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Chris Corsano,
Jandek,
Todd Rundgren,
Matthew Bourne,
Joyce Sims,
Marmalade,
Yellowson,
DJ Sneak,
Monolake,
The Angels of Light,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tubeway Army,
Rod Modell,
The Dirtbombs,
R.M.O.,
the Slits,
Accadde A,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tommy Roe,
Neil Young,
Brand Nubian,
The Blues Magoos,
Cal Tjader,
Ice-T,
Eden Ahbez,
Public Image Ltd.,
Negative Approach,
Eli Mardock,
Cecil Taylor,
Reuben Wilson,
La Düsseldorf,
Pylon,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gladiators,
kango's stein massive,
Bush Tetras,
Black Flag,
Gang Starr,
Bootsy Collins,
Prince Buster,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.