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 Uganda and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Monks to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
The Smiths,
Aural Exciters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tubeway Army,
Bob Dylan,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fuzztones,
The Mummies,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Rites of Spring,
Glenn Branca,
Lindisfarne,
The Neon Judgement,
Deakin,
Bush Tetras,
Hasil Adkins,
Radiohead,
Supertramp,
The Buckinghams,
Metal Thangz,
Popol Vuh,
Dennis Brown,
The Residents,
The Moleskins,
Maleditus Sound,
Joyce Sims,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Barrington Levy,
Carl Craig,
Goldenarms,
Ornette Coleman,
Sight & Sound,
Electric Prunes,
New Age Steppers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Magma,
Livin' Joy,
The American Breed,
The Dirtbombs,
Faraquet,
The Standells,
Inner City,
Pere Ubu,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dead C,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Motions,
The Fortunes,
Boredoms,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Selecter,
Fad Gadget,
The Misunderstood,
Procol Harum,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joy Division,
Jerry's Kids,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
X-102,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.