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 Djibouti and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 T. Rex to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Kaleidoscope,
Donny Hathaway,
The Stooges,
Quantec,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Neon Judgement,
Spandau Ballet,
Scientists,
The Invisible,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fluxion,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Simply Red,
Anthony Braxton,
LL Cool J,
Inner City,
The Misunderstood,
Tommy Roe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skarface,
The Dead C,
Gang Starr,
Lyres,
Arab on Radar,
Marine Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Hasil Adkins,
These Immortal Souls,
The Victims,
Graham Central Station,
Harry Pussy,
John Foxx,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
Sister Nancy,
Thee Headcoats,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sex Pistols,
Reuben Wilson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bobby Byrd,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Y Pants,
Radio Birdman,
Roxette,
The Motions,
Stiv Bators,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Albert Ayler,
Donald Byrd,
Mo-Dettes,
The Red Krayola,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Barry Ungar,
Amon Düül,
Absolute Body Control,
The Zeros,
DNA,
Blancmange,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wasted Youth,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.