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 Lithuania and from New York.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 spring reverb 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 Nas to the disco 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Faraquet,
Lindisfarne,
Jeff Lynne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wolf Eyes,
Basic Channel,
In Retrospect,
Maurizio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scientists,
June of 44,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cal Tjader,
The Gun Club,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rekid,
Eurythmics,
Jandek,
Barrington Levy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hasil Adkins,
Scratch Acid,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Essential Logic,
The Gladiators,
Sonic Youth,
The Modern Lovers,
The Human League,
Rotary Connection,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Five Americans,
Ohio Players,
Masters at Work,
DJ Sneak,
The Barracudas,
Absolute Body Control,
Khruangbin,
Gang Green,
Moebius,
Graham Central Station,
Soft Cell,
The New Christs,
Laurel Aitken,
Qualms,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kenny Larkin,
David McCallum,
The Index,
the Bar-Kays,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fat Boys,
Livin' Joy,
Nick Fraelich,
Tubeway Army,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.