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 Iceland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator 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 Metal Thangz to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
The Evens,
Amon Düül,
Fad Gadget,
Saccharine Trust,
Fugazi,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mad Mike,
Maurizio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Supertramp,
Isaac Hayes,
Yaz,
The Angels of Light,
Goldenarms,
Buzzcocks,
Thompson Twins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacob Miller,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Skaos,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Derrick Morgan,
Television,
New York Dolls,
Black Moon,
The Zeros,
Spandau Ballet,
Silicon Teens,
Quantec,
Theoretical Girls,
Pierre Henry,
Blancmange,
Lou Reed,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Music Machine,
Vladislav Delay,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Trojans,
Lucky Dragons,
Patti Smith,
FM Einheit,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Chrome,
Babytalk,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Martian,
Kurtis Blow,
The Gap Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hasil Adkins,
Robert Görl,
Rod Modell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.