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 Yemen and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Donald Byrd to the electroclash 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
K-Klass,
Mandrill,
Malaria!,
Graham Central Station,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Red Krayola,
The Stooges,
Suburban Knight,
John Foxx,
the Slits,
Heaven 17,
Nas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Erykah Badu,
Ornette Coleman,
Magma,
Matthew Bourne,
Henry Cow,
Scion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Moon,
Piero Umiliani,
The Offenders,
B.T. Express,
Oblivians,
cv313,
Q and Not U,
H. Thieme,
Faraquet,
Echospace,
Depeche Mode,
The Saints,
Brick,
Faust,
Gang of Four,
D'Angelo,
Fad Gadget,
Yellowson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Byron Stingily,
Wire,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Arcadia,
Severed Heads,
Anakelly,
Outsiders,
Whodini,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Au Pairs,
Pierre Henry,
Popol Vuh,
Vainqueur,
Ossler,
Royal Trux,
Boz Scaggs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cecil Taylor,
The Electric Prunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eurythmics,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.