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 Marshall Islands and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 The Buckinghams to the electroclash 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
The Index,
Fluxion,
Lucky Dragons,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Toni Rubio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lakeside,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wasted Youth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Shuggie Otis,
Fugazi,
X-102,
Isaac Hayes,
The Blues Magoos,
Monolake,
Inner City,
Wire,
Joensuu 1685,
David Axelrod,
Iggy Pop,
Cameo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dawn Penn,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sonics,
Siglo XX,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Byrd,
The Modern Lovers,
June of 44,
Eurythmics,
Severed Heads,
Max Romeo,
EPMD,
Barrington Levy,
Roger Hodgson,
Harry Pussy,
Los Fastidios,
Make Up,
Terry Callier,
Banda Bassotti,
Desert Stars,
Gichy Dan,
Audionom,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gladiators,
JFA,
Saccharine Trust,
ABC,
Lower 48,
Kaleidoscope,
Scion,
Carl Craig,
Godley & Creme,
The Five Americans,
Jacob Miller,
Idris Muhammad,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Joe Smooth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.