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 United States and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
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 organ 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 Lebanon Hanover to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wings,
Jacques Brel,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Skatalites,
Archie Shepp,
Monks,
Deadbeat,
Eric Dolphy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Procol Harum,
Patti Smith,
John Holt,
Intrusion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Popol Vuh,
The Gun Club,
Stockholm Monsters,
Arab on Radar,
The Raincoats,
Isaac Hayes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ossler,
The Victims,
Lightning Bolt,
Make Up,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marc Almond,
Ornette Coleman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New Order,
Sugar Minott,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Suburban Knight,
X-102,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Piero Umiliani,
John Lydon,
Camouflage,
The Slits,
Lungfish,
These Immortal Souls,
Excepter,
The Electric Prunes,
Cheater Slicks,
Cybotron,
Minny Pops,
Jerry's Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mojo Men,
The Divine Comedy,
Severed Heads,
Ronan,
Porter Ricks,
Sun Ra,
Second Layer,
Aural Exciters,
Das Ding,
The Walker Brothers,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.