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 Micronesia and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacques Brel to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Sparks,
Althea and Donna,
The Names,
Soulsonic Force,
Minor Threat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hashim,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sixth Finger,
Tears for Fears,
Pharoah Sanders,
Television Personalities,
Mr. Review,
Sam Rivers,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
Wire,
The Slackers,
Amon Düül II,
Trumans Water,
Roy Ayers,
Talk Talk,
ABBA,
The Real Kids,
Severed Heads,
Flash Fearless,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Second Layer,
Theoretical Girls,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Normal,
Malaria!,
The Tremeloes,
D'Angelo,
Index,
Roger Hodgson,
Tomorrow,
Roxette,
Howard Jones,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Searchers,
Flamin' Groovies,
These Immortal Souls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Underground Resistance,
Josef K,
Monks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Sheep,
The Moody Blues,
the Swans,
Scion,
Bobby Womack,
The Move,
Joe Finger,
The Raincoats,
Tommy Roe,
Susan Cadogan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Brothers Johnson,
Scott Walker,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.