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 Estonia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Index to the crunk 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Normal,
Lightning Bolt,
The Invisible,
The Litter,
The Associates,
The Smiths,
Moebius,
Bobby Byrd,
Model 500,
Derrick May,
Severed Heads,
Pere Ubu,
The Grass Roots,
Japan,
New Order,
The Index,
T. Rex,
Deakin,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sugar Minott,
June Days,
Nils Olav,
Bush Tetras,
Colin Newman,
Das Ding,
Jimmy McGriff,
Stockholm Monsters,
Patti Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Searchers,
The Doors,
Massinfluence,
John Holt,
Dorothy Ashby,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fugazi,
The Leaves,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Womack,
Black Moon,
Quando Quango,
Peter & Gordon,
These Immortal Souls,
In Retrospect,
DNA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scan 7,
Bad Manners,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rapeman,
the Sonics,
Sound Behaviour,
Adolescents,
a-ha,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
48th St. Collective,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jawbox,
Lou Reed,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.