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 Sierra Leone and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Velvet Underground to the jazz 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
DJ Style,
The Kinks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Iggy Pop,
The Smiths,
The Toasters,
Fela Kuti,
Agent Orange,
Soft Machine,
Michelle Simonal,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Matthew Halsall,
Surgeon,
Mars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brand Nubian,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hashim,
JFA,
Al Stewart,
Qualms,
Sam Rivers,
Rosa Yemen,
Soft Cell,
Kaleidoscope,
Tubeway Army,
H. Thieme,
Urselle,
The Slackers,
Q and Not U,
Average White Band,
Technova,
Fatback Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Anakelly,
The Zeros,
New Order,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Vogues,
The J.B.'s,
Brass Construction,
The Selecter,
Ohio Players,
Dark Day,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Music Machine,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terrestrial Tones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deadbeat,
Vainqueur,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yazoo,
Dennis Brown,
Royal Trux,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.