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 Pakistan and from New York.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Tim Buckley to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sarah Menescal,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantytec,
The Monks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angry Samoans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Five Americans,
Ice-T,
Infiniti,
The Divine Comedy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers,
Stiv Bators,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Velvet Underground,
Dead Boys,
Organ,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Intrusion,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Shuggie Otis,
Newcleus,
The Fugs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Monochrome Set,
Marine Girls,
Minny Pops,
Warsaw,
The Black Dice,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dark Day,
The Fall,
U.S. Maple,
Alphaville,
Half Japanese,
The Cowsills,
Fugazi,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Slits,
Jandek,
Barry Ungar,
Gang of Four,
China Crisis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mars,
Siglo XX,
Bob Dylan,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
James White and The Blacks,
Spoonie Gee,
Silicon Teens,
Severed Heads,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Hardrive,
Interpol,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.