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 Taiwan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mandrill to the rap 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
The Divine Comedy,
Model 500,
Malaria!,
Todd Rundgren,
Popol Vuh,
Tres Demented,
Inner City,
Tom Boy,
8 Eyed Spy,
B.T. Express,
Swell Maps,
Minutemen,
Johnny Clarke,
David Axelrod,
Patti Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Graham Central Station,
The Pop Group,
Sun City Girls,
Howard Jones,
Ultimate Spinach,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dennis Brown,
The Sound,
Blancmange,
Deepchord,
Black Sheep,
Alton Ellis,
Niagra,
Desert Stars,
Boredoms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
T. Rex,
Clear Light,
Depeche Mode,
E-Dancer,
Dual Sessions,
Althea and Donna,
Tommy Roe,
Moss Icon,
Black Moon,
Rites of Spring,
Quando Quango,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
UT,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Pus,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Sherman,
Soul II Soul,
Khruangbin,
Vladislav Delay,
Porter Ricks,
Scion,
The Fire Engines,
Procol Harum,
New York Dolls,
the Association,
The Grass Roots,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.