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 Ghana and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 United States of America to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Trumans Water,
Roxy Music,
The Gun Club,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tres Demented,
Wings,
Arcadia,
Sugar Minott,
Slick Rick,
Hot Snakes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Golliwogs,
Joyce Sims,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Fania All-Stars,
Duran Duran,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eden Ahbez,
Chris & Cosey,
The J.B.'s,
Mr. Review,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Sherman,
Bush Tetras,
Blake Baxter,
Marshall Jefferson,
Soul II Soul,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Godley & Creme,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Derrick Morgan,
Sight & Sound,
Magazine,
Panda Bear,
The Monochrome Set,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Glenn Branca,
Kenny Larkin,
CMW,
June Days,
R.M.O.,
John Coltrane,
Lyres,
Ice-T,
Gang of Four,
Pole,
Severed Heads,
Organ,
Al Stewart,
JFA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Trojans,
Carl Craig,
Reuben Wilson,
Excepter,
The Litter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skaos,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.