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 Antigua and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Peter and Kerry to the rock 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
The Searchers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Faraquet,
Sällskapet,
Royal Trux,
Junior Murvin,
Ultra Naté,
Dark Day,
Vainqueur,
Crash Course in Science,
Eli Mardock,
Curtis Mayfield,
Depeche Mode,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Stooges,
Fugazi,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Brothers Johnson,
KRS-One,
Fat Boys,
Masters at Work,
Intrusion,
Connie Case,
Matthew Bourne,
Qualms,
Swans,
Eve St. Jones,
Organ,
Jacob Miller,
Bobby Womack,
Laurel Aitken,
Jandek,
The Happenings,
Quando Quango,
Neu!,
The Velvet Underground,
The Black Dice,
Pantaleimon,
Bluetip,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Crispian St. Peters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scan 7,
10cc,
John Holt,
John Cale,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pere Ubu,
Guru Guru,
Malaria!,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispy Ambulance,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Idris Muhammad,
Deadbeat,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.