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 Syria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dead Boys to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
E-Dancer,
Byron Stingily,
Black Sheep,
The Fugs,
48th St. Collective,
Mission of Burma,
The Music Machine,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
Terry Callier,
New Age Steppers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cluster,
Ronan,
Scrapy,
Carl Craig,
The Human League,
Susan Cadogan,
A Certain Ratio,
Stiv Bators,
Blancmange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blake Baxter,
Matthew Bourne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Supertramp,
The Stooges,
Marvin Gaye,
Mandrill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
FM Einheit,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
10cc,
The Blackbyrds,
Camouflage,
Grauzone,
The Raincoats,
Gang Starr,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Minnie Riperton,
The Monochrome Set,
The Grass Roots,
Television,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pierre Henry,
The Move,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gong,
The Young Rascals,
Minutemen,
Sam Rivers,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cramps,
Morten Harket,
Quando Quango,
Average White Band,
The Blues Magoos,
Junior Murvin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.