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 Syria and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 MC5 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hot Snakes,
Danielle Patucci,
Young Marble Giants,
Soulsonic Force,
Susan Cadogan,
Trumans Water,
Easy Going,
The Evens,
The Pretty Things,
Gang Starr,
Ossler,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hardrive,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Index,
Mr. Review,
Simply Red,
June of 44,
Maurizio,
Masters at Work,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
Rakim,
The Doors,
Isaac Hayes,
Marc Almond,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Sun Ra,
Guru Guru,
Spandau Ballet,
Mandrill,
Bluetip,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
New Age Steppers,
Flamin' Groovies,
China Crisis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Heaven 17,
Idris Muhammad,
The Tremeloes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Supertramp,
Japan,
Fad Gadget,
Royal Trux,
New Order,
Goldenarms,
Wally Richardson,
Radio Birdman,
Ohio Players,
Eric Copeland,
Duran Duran,
Desert Stars,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Slave,
B.T. Express,
Man Parrish,
Amazonics,
Laurel Aitken,
Alice Coltrane,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.