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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Malaria! to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiohead,
The Wake,
the Swans,
The Pop Group,
Cal Tjader,
The Evens,
Arab on Radar,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Babytalk,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed,
The Mummies,
Unwound,
The Knickerbockers,
Archie Shepp,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ultravox,
Rhythm & Sound,
Blossom Toes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marvin Gaye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
10cc,
The Misunderstood,
Sam Rivers,
Alphaville,
Warsaw,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Cale,
Fat Boys,
Brick,
Icehouse,
Pantytec,
Quando Quango,
Faust,
The Barracudas,
The Doors,
The Moody Blues,
Arcadia,
The Music Machine,
Pharoah Sanders,
E-Dancer,
Hot Snakes,
48th St. Collective,
Nico,
Joey Negro,
Pussy Galore,
Excepter,
Chris & Cosey,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Suburban Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Boredoms,
Symarip,
Oneida,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fortunes,
The Happenings,
a-ha,
A Certain Ratio,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.