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 Czech Republic and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Flamin' Groovies to the grunge 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
Althea and Donna,
Alphaville,
Excepter,
Barry Ungar,
Dawn Penn,
The Electric Prunes,
Carl Craig,
Moby Grape,
The Smoke,
The Pop Group,
Thee Headcoats,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bauhaus,
X-102,
Rotary Connection,
Fat Boys,
John Holt,
Organ,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Trojans,
Scientists,
Cymande,
Agent Orange,
Newcleus,
Liliput,
Henry Cow,
The Count Five,
Mo-Dettes,
The Offenders,
Smog,
Reagan Youth,
Model 500,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Smiths,
Gang of Four,
Icehouse,
The Durutti Column,
Mr. Review,
Nils Olav,
CMW,
Von Mondo,
Graham Central Station,
Nik Kershaw,
The Associates,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kool Moe Dee,
Brass Construction,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Youth Brigade,
Slave,
Los Fastidios,
Bush Tetras,
The Velvet Underground,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
June of 44,
Vainqueur,
Magazine,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.