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 Iraq and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Minor Threat to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Arthur Verocai,
The Pop Group,
The Cure,
the Swans,
Marvin Gaye,
Pantytec,
Sam Rivers,
Charles Mingus,
Iggy Pop,
These Immortal Souls,
Scion,
Sparks,
cv313,
Groovy Waters,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott Heron,
Organ,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pantaleimon,
Duran Duran,
Peter and Kerry,
Pagans,
The Vogues,
Harry Pussy,
Marmalade,
MDC,
Oneida,
The Beau Brummels,
The Knickerbockers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
B.T. Express,
UT,
Oblivians,
Sällskapet,
Chrome,
Fad Gadget,
Can,
Excepter,
The Kinks,
Accadde A,
Interpol,
Wings,
F. McDonald,
Lindisfarne,
Aaron Thompson,
New York Dolls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fear,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Eddi Front,
The Fall,
Simply Red,
The Move,
Supertramp,
Pierre Henry,
The Selecter,
Andrew Hill,
Flipper,
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.