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 Micronesia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Glasgow and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Amazonics to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Arab on Radar,
Eve St. Jones,
Rufus Thomas,
Man Parrish,
Chrome,
Kurtis Blow,
Duran Duran,
Donny Hathaway,
Gastr Del Sol,
Thompson Twins,
Fad Gadget,
Pierre Henry,
Morten Harket,
Bad Manners,
Rotary Connection,
Rosa Yemen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Royal Trux,
Darondo,
cv313,
Bronski Beat,
Nico,
Infiniti,
Mantronix,
Josef K,
Dark Day,
Pylon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Easy Going,
Country Teasers,
The Leaves,
Deepchord,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Golliwogs,
Black Moon,
The Cramps,
The Trojans,
Dennis Brown,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Can,
Bush Tetras,
Rapeman,
The Mojo Men,
Jeff Mills,
Warren Ellis,
Bob Dylan,
Joy Division,
The Count Five,
Vainqueur,
The Dead C,
Peter and Kerry,
Gichy Dan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang Green,
T. Rex,
Barry Ungar,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Monks,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.