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 Venezuela and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer 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 Faraquet to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Residents,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fatback Band,
Funkadelic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roger Hodgson,
Pantaleimon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ludus,
Don Cherry,
Gichy Dan,
The Red Krayola,
Man Parrish,
Nation of Ulysses,
48th St. Collective,
The Doors,
New York Dolls,
These Immortal Souls,
Marine Girls,
Bill Near,
Aaron Thompson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
a-ha,
Marshall Jefferson,
Essential Logic,
Spoonie Gee,
Bob Dylan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rotary Connection,
Angry Samoans,
Fluxion,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gang Green,
Barbara Tucker,
Scientists,
Skaos,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bluetip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Pretty Things,
Jacques Brel,
Clear Light,
The United States of America,
Crispy Ambulance,
JFA,
Fela Kuti,
The Leaves,
Pagans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ohio Players,
Terry Callier,
Johnny Clarke,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vladislav Delay,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.