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 Uzbekistan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Slackers to the grime 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonic Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Angry Samoans,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Trojans,
Motorama,
Ronnie Foster,
The Seeds,
The Golliwogs,
the Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
10cc,
The New Christs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Agitation Free,
Aaron Thompson,
Crooked Eye,
Jeff Lynne,
Rites of Spring,
Marvin Gaye,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Graham Central Station,
Simply Red,
Gang Starr,
Donald Byrd,
Sun City Girls,
Soul II Soul,
The Gun Club,
The Cramps,
Albert Ayler,
Procol Harum,
The Blues Magoos,
Isaac Hayes,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Last Poets,
Blake Baxter,
Gerry Rafferty,
Danielle Patucci,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Residents,
The Slits,
Von Mondo,
Eddi Front,
the Sonics,
Eli Mardock,
Alphaville,
The Invisible,
Jerry's Kids,
Jandek,
Vladislav Delay,
Ken Boothe,
Bill Wells,
the Association,
Inner City,
These Immortal Souls,
Boredoms,
Ponytail,
Buzzcocks,
Lungfish,
D'Angelo,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.