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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Glenn Branca to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
a-ha,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Count Five,
Hardrive,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Christie,
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lindisfarne,
Bill Wells,
the Germs,
Lungfish,
Agitation Free,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Barrington Levy,
Derrick Morgan,
The Divine Comedy,
Sonic Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Vainqueur,
Bang On A Can,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swans,
The Invisible,
The Names,
Shuggie Otis,
Con Funk Shun,
June of 44,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
T. Rex,
Derrick May,
The Doobie Brothers,
Severed Heads,
The Smiths,
Al Stewart,
Peter & Gordon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Duran Duran,
Ossler,
Parry Music,
The Vogues,
Ohio Players,
Funky Four + One,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joe Smooth,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ornette Coleman,
Ituana,
James White and The Blacks,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Modern Lovers,
Moss Icon,
Guru Guru,
Panda Bear,
The J.B.'s,
Prince Buster,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.