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 Uzbekistan and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Glambeats Corp. to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Davy DMX,
Scratch Acid,
Laurel Aitken,
Television,
Excepter,
Panda Bear,
Oneida,
Anakelly,
The Residents,
Babytalk,
Tears for Fears,
Altered Images,
the Slits,
Todd Rundgren,
Joe Finger,
CMW,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Chris & Cosey,
Soul Sonic Force,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Vladislav Delay,
Theoretical Girls,
Public Enemy,
These Immortal Souls,
MC5,
Fear,
Fela Kuti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scan 7,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Walker Brothers,
Eric Dolphy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Urselle,
Bad Manners,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Arab on Radar,
The Zeros,
The Modern Lovers,
Suicide,
Faraquet,
Swans,
The Doobie Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
David Bowie,
Cameo,
Metal Thangz,
Peter and Kerry,
Mo-Dettes,
Bootsy Collins,
Stiv Bators,
Yaz,
The Last Poets,
The Music Machine,
Grauzone,
Au Pairs,
Amon Düül II,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.