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 South Africa and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 John Coltrane to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
The Offenders,
Motorama,
Avey Tare,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marine Girls,
Warsaw,
Bush Tetras,
Brick,
Ken Boothe,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Erykah Badu,
X-101,
Unwound,
PIL,
Eve St. Jones,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kurtis Blow,
Todd Rundgren,
The Standells,
Shoche,
MDC,
The Residents,
Carl Craig,
Mantronix,
Oneida,
The Human League,
Morten Harket,
Ossler,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tommy Roe,
Suicide,
The Beau Brummels,
Tubeway Army,
Funkadelic,
Amon Düül II,
The Slackers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
June of 44,
Minnie Riperton,
Danielle Patucci,
Girls At Our Best!,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alton Ellis,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Con Funk Shun,
The Remains,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Soft Cell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Kinks,
Khruangbin,
The Cowsills,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ornette Coleman,
B.T. Express,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.