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 Togo and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joey Negro to the crunk 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 LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Marvin Gaye,
Johnny Clarke,
Hot Snakes,
Dennis Brown,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cure,
Alison Limerick,
Magazine,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Coltrane,
Albert Ayler,
The Red Krayola,
Qualms,
Wolf Eyes,
The Doors,
Jandek,
Grandmaster Flash,
Talk Talk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
Charles Mingus,
Q and Not U,
Whodini,
Television Personalities,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eden Ahbez,
Subhumans,
The Trojans,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
Joe Finger,
Fat Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Television,
Bang On A Can,
Minnie Riperton,
Andrew Hill,
The Real Kids,
China Crisis,
Neil Young,
The Star Department,
Spandau Ballet,
a-ha,
Peter and Kerry,
Supertramp,
Panda Bear,
Warsaw,
The Residents,
Lyres,
Pole,
Pussy Galore,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heaven 17,
John Holt,
Joey Negro,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rapeman,
Khruangbin,
The Human League,
New Age Steppers,
The Fortunes,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.