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 El Salvador and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Jerry's Kids,
a-ha,
Ituana,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Juan Atkins,
Erykah Badu,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aswad,
Pussy Galore,
Radio Birdman,
Quadrant,
The Electric Prunes,
The Smoke,
The Knickerbockers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Brick,
The Five Americans,
Flipper,
The Cowsills,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Robert Hood,
Jeff Lynne,
the Bar-Kays,
Simply Red,
Dead Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Red Krayola,
Barclay James Harvest,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Count Five,
Big Daddy Kane,
Subhumans,
PIL,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Visage,
Wally Richardson,
Agent Orange,
Animal Collective,
Dual Sessions,
F. McDonald,
Eve St. Jones,
UT,
New York Dolls,
X-101,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tom Boy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Iggy Pop,
Harry Pussy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tubeway Army,
Nik Kershaw,
Babytalk,
Alison Limerick,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fuzztones,
The Angels of Light,
ABBA,
Albert Ayler,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.