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 Jordan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin 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 Arab on Radar to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Wally Richardson,
Wings,
Arcadia,
June of 44,
The Golliwogs,
The Pretty Things,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Terrestrial Tones,
Slick Rick,
Silicon Teens,
Black Pus,
The Modern Lovers,
Rekid,
Juan Atkins,
JFA,
The Smoke,
The Real Kids,
Eve St. Jones,
Harpers Bizarre,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Hashim,
China Crisis,
Funky Four + One,
Faust,
Freddie Wadling,
Clear Light,
Radio Birdman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Magazine,
The Durutti Column,
The Tremeloes,
Kayak,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Velvet Underground,
Crooked Eye,
The Smiths,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Au Pairs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Monolake,
KRS-One,
Archie Shepp,
Donald Byrd,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Simply Red,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ohio Players,
David Axelrod,
T.S.O.L.,
Piero Umiliani,
Warren Ellis,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott Heron,
D'Angelo,
The Standells,
The Moody Blues,
a-ha,
Urselle,
Roy Ayers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Massinfluence,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.