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 Jordan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe 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 Darondo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Procol Harum,
Rakim,
Shuggie Otis,
Piero Umiliani,
The Red Krayola,
PIL,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Derrick May,
Drexciya,
Cheater Slicks,
Audionom,
Los Fastidios,
Moby Grape,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gong,
Marshall Jefferson,
Delta 5,
Skriet,
Dead Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Monochrome Set,
Spoonie Gee,
a-ha,
The Last Poets,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joey Negro,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Half Japanese,
T. Rex,
Monolake,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Moon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kaleidoscope,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Gang Dance,
Babytalk,
Roger Hodgson,
Bill Wells,
The Divine Comedy,
Au Pairs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bluetip,
Lou Reed,
Maleditus Sound,
Quando Quango,
Nik Kershaw,
The American Breed,
Boz Scaggs,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
Man Eating Sloth,
Main Source,
Jacques Brel,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Leonard Cohen,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.