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 Azerbaijan and from Seoul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Los Fastidios to the crunk 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
DNA,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Neu!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lakeside,
Los Fastidios,
Lalann,
Intrusion,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fuzztones,
Skaos,
KRS-One,
Excepter,
Siglo XX,
The Walker Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Lightning Bolt,
Scientists,
Severed Heads,
Colin Newman,
Glenn Branca,
10cc,
Brick,
The Mummies,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dave Gahan,
Roxette,
Public Enemy,
The Black Dice,
Bluetip,
Matthew Halsall,
Inner City,
Stetsasonic,
Index,
Mad Mike,
Franke,
Rotary Connection,
Sight & Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bang On A Can,
The Young Rascals,
H. Thieme,
Spoonie Gee,
Barry Ungar,
Trumans Water,
Eric Dolphy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Yellowson,
Black Flag,
Jacques Brel,
Rufus Thomas,
Cameo,
The Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
Pulsallama,
Tom Boy,
Kayak,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Durutti Column,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.