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 Equatorial Guinea and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bill Wells to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Chrome,
Wings,
Animal Collective,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Gladiators,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Procol Harum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Frankie Knuckles,
Subhumans,
Nick Fraelich,
PIL,
T.S.O.L.,
Albert Ayler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ossler,
Parry Music,
the Human League,
The Vogues,
This Heat,
The Selecter,
10cc,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Starr,
Porter Ricks,
The Moody Blues,
cv313,
Groovy Waters,
Goldenarms,
The Motions,
Organ,
Harry Pussy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Steve Hackett,
The Doobie Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
The Mummies,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barry Ungar,
48th St. Collective,
The Birthday Party,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Can,
Scott Walker,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Monochrome Set,
Pole,
Mr. Review,
the Normal,
Hot Snakes,
The Offenders,
FM Einheit,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spoonie Gee,
Tomorrow,
Sällskapet,
Aaron Thompson,
Lucky Dragons,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.