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 Slovakia and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Pantaleimon to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Big Daddy Kane,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jandek,
Erykah Badu,
the Slits,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Visage,
Wolf Eyes,
Depeche Mode,
Rosa Yemen,
Duran Duran,
Carl Craig,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cameo,
Shuggie Otis,
Rekid,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ken Boothe,
Pierre Henry,
Matthew Bourne,
Main Source,
Joensuu 1685,
Icehouse,
Fugazi,
These Immortal Souls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
H. Thieme,
Monolake,
Crispian St. Peters,
Warsaw,
Gerry Rafferty,
Au Pairs,
The United States of America,
Agent Orange,
the Swans,
Crash Course in Science,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sugar Minott,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barrington Levy,
Negative Approach,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Brand Nubian,
Metal Thangz,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lindisfarne,
Niagra,
Pantytec,
Gichy Dan,
Deepchord,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nirvana,
Tubeway Army,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Oblivians,
The Durutti Column,
David Axelrod,
DNA,
Sight & Sound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Derrick Morgan,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.