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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Monks to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 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 Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Gun Club,
Nico,
The Electric Prunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Glenn Branca,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Happenings,
Eric Copeland,
Andrew Hill,
The Birthday Party,
Suburban Knight,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Seeds,
Funkadelic,
Lungfish,
Davy DMX,
The Barracudas,
The Young Rascals,
Laurel Aitken,
Urselle,
Joy Division,
Slick Rick,
Minutemen,
Gang of Four,
Main Source,
Flash Fearless,
Basic Channel,
These Immortal Souls,
Lalann,
Rosa Yemen,
Talk Talk,
Marshall Jefferson,
Hashim,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Selecter,
Mo-Dettes,
Jacques Brel,
Howard Jones,
Roxy Music,
Quantec,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dennis Brown,
Freddie Wadling,
Magma,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sonics,
Idris Muhammad,
Robert Wyatt,
New Order,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ornette Coleman,
Average White Band,
Black Sheep,
The Saints,
Patti Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Pierre Henry,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Brothers Johnson,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.