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 Poland and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crooked Eye to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Minor Threat,
The Evens,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Moody Blues,
Jacques Brel,
Make Up,
Television,
Duran Duran,
The Saints,
Rekid,
Interpol,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Christie,
John Coltrane,
Ossler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wally Richardson,
Mo-Dettes,
Clear Light,
Pussy Galore,
the Normal,
Eric Dolphy,
Hoover,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
The Dead C,
E-Dancer,
Boredoms,
U.S. Maple,
Crash Course in Science,
Radiohead,
The Star Department,
D'Angelo,
X-Ray Spex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rites of Spring,
The Cure,
Monks,
The Slackers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alice Coltrane,
Sandy B,
David Axelrod,
The Modern Lovers,
The Last Poets,
Outsiders,
Symarip,
Piero Umiliani,
Marvin Gaye,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pulsallama,
The Divine Comedy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bauhaus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Camouflage,
Leonard Cohen,
The Walker Brothers,
Carl Craig,
ABBA,
David McCallum, David McCallum, David McCallum, David McCallum.
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.