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 Guinea-Bissau and from Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Robert Hood to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Japan,
Donny Hathaway,
Rites of Spring,
Cluster,
One Last Wish,
Black Flag,
The Black Dice,
Pulsallama,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
E-Dancer,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
B.T. Express,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gichy Dan,
Half Japanese,
The Angels of Light,
Alison Limerick,
Ultravox,
Crooked Eye,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Shoche,
The Mummies,
Masters at Work,
Janne Schatter,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Interpol,
Ultra Naté,
Grey Daturas,
Faust,
The Human League,
Oneida,
Fear,
Agent Orange,
Niagra,
Roger Hodgson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rotary Connection,
T. Rex,
Warsaw,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Starr,
Radio Birdman,
The Trojans,
Thee Headcoats,
Mars,
Motorama,
Hoover,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Brothers Johnson,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thompson Twins,
Icehouse,
Maleditus Sound,
The Gladiators,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.