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 Lagos.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Steve Hackett to the rap 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
The Wake,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cheater Slicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Siglo XX,
The Litter,
Massinfluence,
Ultravox,
The Index,
This Heat,
The Monks,
KRS-One,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
OOIOO,
the Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Martian,
Circle Jerks,
Con Funk Shun,
Hoover,
Blake Baxter,
Al Stewart,
The Toasters,
Echospace,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Misunderstood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Panda Bear,
World's Most,
Mr. Review,
Symarip,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pagans,
Toni Rubio,
New York Dolls,
Rakim,
MC5,
The Smoke,
Unrelated Segments,
A Certain Ratio,
Agent Orange,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joe Finger,
Lower 48,
New Order,
Mad Mike,
Electric Prunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Sherman,
Arthur Verocai,
The Mummies,
Grauzone,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Barbara Tucker,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Darondo,
Scratch Acid,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.