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 Niger and from London.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Subhumans to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
John Coltrane,
Funky Four + One,
Ken Boothe,
Con Funk Shun,
Interpol,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fortunes,
Mo-Dettes,
The Walker Brothers,
the Sonics,
Chris Corsano,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Desert Stars,
Von Mondo,
The Human League,
Jacob Miller,
Dead Boys,
Basic Channel,
David Axelrod,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Gap Band,
Slick Rick,
Dorothy Ashby,
Josef K,
Liliput,
Pagans,
Masters at Work,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boredoms,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Barracudas,
The Raincoats,
Parry Music,
Grey Daturas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mr. Review,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Seeds,
Niagra,
Fear,
Saccharine Trust,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camberwell Now,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oneida,
New Age Steppers,
The Black Dice,
The Saints,
Black Bananas,
Rekid,
Ossler,
John Lydon,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.