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 Armenia and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 June Days to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
The Durutti Column,
Pylon,
Gang Starr,
Lee Hazlewood,
Aswad,
The Mojo Men,
Quantec,
Urselle,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blossom Toes,
Oneida,
Reuben Wilson,
Accadde A,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Vogues,
Country Teasers,
Tomorrow,
The Kinks,
Drexciya,
Surgeon,
The Electric Prunes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Babytalk,
Schoolly D,
Alton Ellis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Liliput,
The Evens,
Ice-T,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Swell Maps,
The Blues Magoos,
Sun Ra,
The Human League,
Hardrive,
Kerri Chandler,
The Moleskins,
New York Dolls,
Funky Four + One,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Names,
Stiv Bators,
The Motions,
Jawbox,
Donny Hathaway,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Selecter,
Altered Images,
John Holt,
The Neon Judgement,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Stooges,
Lower 48,
Camberwell Now,
Quadrant,
Trumans Water,
Johnny Clarke,
Shuggie Otis,
Jeru the Damaja,
Connie Case,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.