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 Jamaica and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare 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 Deepchord to the dance 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Chris Corsano,
Derrick Morgan,
Terry Callier,
Warsaw,
Arthur Verocai,
Lakeside,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gun Club,
L. Decosne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nils Olav,
Altered Images,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jeff Lynne,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jacob Miller,
Skarface,
Groovy Waters,
Lightning Bolt,
Vainqueur,
Suicide,
F. McDonald,
Eric Dolphy,
The Stooges,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Victims,
Yellowson,
The Leaves,
Gang Green,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
Q and Not U,
Saccharine Trust,
Faust,
Thee Headcoats,
Aloha Tigers,
EPMD,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Adolescents,
Ornette Coleman,
The Star Department,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Wake,
U.S. Maple,
Severed Heads,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
Inner City,
Aswad,
June of 44,
Carl Craig,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neil Young,
the Normal,
CMW,
The Move,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.