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 Manila.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the funk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yellowson,
UT,
Scrapy,
Jacques Brel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pulsallama,
The Kinks,
Arab on Radar,
The Toasters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Vainqueur,
Inner City,
Hashim,
Rhythm & Sound,
CMW,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Steve Hackett,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Von Mondo,
Agitation Free,
Tomorrow,
Animal Collective,
John Cale,
Faraquet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Massinfluence,
Michelle Simonal,
Archie Shepp,
Babytalk,
Amon Düül,
Anakelly,
Lindisfarne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aaron Thompson,
The Knickerbockers,
Little Man,
David Bowie,
Rekid,
Scan 7,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare,
Crash Course in Science,
Joyce Sims,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Blues Magoos,
June of 44,
Girls At Our Best!,
Andrew Hill,
Cymande,
Reagan Youth,
Hasil Adkins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Radio Birdman,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fall,
Dawn Penn,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Move,
Bob Dylan,
Roger Hodgson,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.