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 Luxembourg and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet 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 Peter and Kerry to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
John Coltrane,
Rites of Spring,
Dawn Penn,
Section 25,
Jerry's Kids,
Rufus Thomas,
DJ Style,
Todd Rundgren,
The Cure,
Henry Cow,
Roger Hodgson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxette,
The Sound,
Joyce Sims,
Albert Ayler,
Underground Resistance,
Absolute Body Control,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott Heron,
KRS-One,
Idris Muhammad,
The Five Americans,
Moebius,
The Fall,
Q65,
Piero Umiliani,
Gichy Dan,
Nick Fraelich,
The Modern Lovers,
Agent Orange,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantaleimon,
David Axelrod,
Clear Light,
The Names,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Heaven 17,
The Moody Blues,
Lou Christie,
Supertramp,
Crime,
Sex Pistols,
Danielle Patucci,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Pretty Things,
Barrington Levy,
Minutemen,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
DJ Sneak,
Sonic Youth,
Schoolly D,
Anthony Braxton,
Circle Jerks,
Camouflage,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.