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 Cape Verde and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
China Crisis,
Dave Gahan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Index,
Arab on Radar,
The Misunderstood,
Ornette Coleman,
Delta 5,
The Star Department,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minny Pops,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Von Mondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Henry Cow,
Joensuu 1685,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jimmy McGriff,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Leaves,
Jerry's Kids,
Sällskapet,
Excepter,
Alice Coltrane,
The Golliwogs,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Grass Roots,
Ultravox,
Groovy Waters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scan 7,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Isaac Hayes,
Icehouse,
Jeff Lynne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Los Fastidios,
Clear Light,
Goldenarms,
The Gladiators,
T.S.O.L.,
Joey Negro,
Wasted Youth,
The Sound,
Absolute Body Control,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Sheep,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mantronix,
The Dirtbombs,
Peter and Kerry,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fugazi,
Skarface,
Barry Ungar,
Patti Smith,
Cluster,
Pylon,
The Electric Prunes,
Fatback Band,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.