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 Botswana and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Marmalade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Magazine,
Popol Vuh,
Ice-T,
X-Ray Spex,
Boredoms,
Alice Coltrane,
E-Dancer,
The Saints,
Scratch Acid,
New York Dolls,
The Blackbyrds,
Outsiders,
The Litter,
Maurizio,
Surgeon,
Unwound,
Mad Mike,
Delon & Dalcan,
KRS-One,
Flipper,
Carl Craig,
The Gories,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wally Richardson,
The Invisible,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mummies,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Standells,
Jawbox,
Quantec,
Suicide,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Circle Jerks,
Dave Gahan,
The Star Department,
Television Personalities,
Freddie Wadling,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Quando Quango,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Victims,
Yellowson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Technova,
48th St. Collective,
Public Image Ltd.,
Animal Collective,
The Martian,
Tears for Fears,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Birthday Party,
Ken Boothe,
The Names,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.