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 Belize and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
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 spring reverb 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 Lou Christie to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Outsiders,
The Cure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Tres Demented,
Junior Murvin,
Roxy Music,
The Associates,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Steve Hackett,
Moby Grape,
Fugazi,
Alice Coltrane,
Faraquet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
These Immortal Souls,
The Sound,
Minnie Riperton,
Black Bananas,
Fat Boys,
Mad Mike,
Sparks,
Surgeon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Radiohead,
the Normal,
Qualms,
The Zeros,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
LL Cool J,
Das Ding,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wolf Eyes,
The Busters,
Stiv Bators,
Susan Cadogan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Warsaw,
Erasure,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Television,
Sex Pistols,
The Fire Engines,
Scan 7,
Half Japanese,
Dawn Penn,
The Gap Band,
Janne Schatter,
Wings,
Intrusion,
Terry Callier,
Con Funk Shun,
T.S.O.L.,
Tomorrow,
Carl Craig,
Khruangbin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.