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 Nauru and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Traffic Nightmare to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Junior Murvin,
Sällskapet,
The Saints,
Minor Threat,
The Fire Engines,
The Trojans,
Magma,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sparks,
James White and The Blacks,
Soft Machine,
Danielle Patucci,
Kerrie Biddell,
Anthony Braxton,
Crash Course in Science,
Suicide,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Liliput,
The Human League,
the Normal,
The Skatalites,
the Bar-Kays,
Deakin,
Gang Starr,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Anakelly,
Accadde A,
Pussy Galore,
Oblivians,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jeru the Damaja,
Charles Mingus,
The Barracudas,
Bronski Beat,
Iggy Pop,
The Moleskins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lou Christie,
Main Source,
Quantec,
Q65,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sight & Sound,
Audionom,
Hoover,
Eric Copeland,
Yazoo,
Agitation Free,
Peter & Gordon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Harry Pussy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Banda Bassotti,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minnie Riperton,
The Selecter,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.