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 San Marino and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz 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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
The Names,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eli Mardock,
The Pop Group,
Tropical Tobacco,
Erasure,
JFA,
The Sonics,
The Tremeloes,
CMW,
John Holt,
The Barracudas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New Order,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tres Demented,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultra Naté,
Stereo Dub,
The Stooges,
Echospace,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun City Girls,
The American Breed,
Sun Ra,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Angry Samoans,
Silicon Teens,
The Fugs,
June of 44,
The Mojo Men,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül,
Joyce Sims,
Mandrill,
Popol Vuh,
Black Bananas,
Letta Mbulu,
Mr. Review,
Spandau Ballet,
The Velvet Underground,
H. Thieme,
Rotary Connection,
The Moleskins,
Sarah Menescal,
Groovy Waters,
Smog,
Marvin Gaye,
the Germs,
The Cure,
The United States of America,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Flag,
Desert Stars,
U.S. Maple,
The Remains,
Charles Mingus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Coltrane,
Bauhaus,
Barbara Tucker,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.