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 South Sudan and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Divine Comedy to the rap 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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Eurythmics,
the Swans,
Pantaleimon,
Slave,
Neu!,
Sandy B,
Todd Rundgren,
Kerrie Biddell,
Isaac Hayes,
Gang Green,
Donny Hathaway,
Clear Light,
Erasure,
It's A Beautiful Day,
48th St. Collective,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Connie Case,
UT,
Harmonia,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Moody Blues,
Faust,
Depeche Mode,
Absolute Body Control,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eli Mardock,
Vladislav Delay,
Joey Negro,
The Slackers,
Funky Four + One,
T.S.O.L.,
Supertramp,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roxy Music,
Don Cherry,
The Invisible,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rekid,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deepchord,
The United States of America,
Ken Boothe,
Stereo Dub,
Lebanon Hanover,
Albert Ayler,
Trumans Water,
Colin Newman,
The Dead C,
Camouflage,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
Davy DMX,
Popol Vuh,
Mandrill,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Rosa Yemen,
Royal Trux,
Gang of Four,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.