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 Kyrgyzstan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the funk 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Pierre Henry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quando Quango,
Erykah Badu,
Fear,
Procol Harum,
The Last Poets,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jawbox,
Maurizio,
Index,
Nirvana,
Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Joey Negro,
Franke,
John Lydon,
The Cowsills,
This Heat,
The Move,
Pussy Galore,
The Star Department,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Beau Brummels,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soul II Soul,
Wasted Youth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lindisfarne,
The Tremeloes,
Little Man,
Massinfluence,
Outsiders,
The Monks,
Trumans Water,
Cal Tjader,
Tres Demented,
Joensuu 1685,
The Saints,
Max Romeo,
Brick,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bobby Sherman,
Minor Threat,
Minny Pops,
Junior Murvin,
Susan Cadogan,
Pere Ubu,
The Real Kids,
Kool Moe Dee,
Glambeats Corp.,
PIL,
Intrusion,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chris & Cosey,
Oblivians,
Inner City,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.