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 Congo and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Minor Threat to the grunge 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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Bauhaus,
The Dead C,
Crispian St. Peters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sam Rivers,
The Slits,
The Fugs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dave Gahan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Janne Schatter,
Steve Hackett,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Howard Jones,
The Searchers,
X-101,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Interpol,
Wire,
Crash Course in Science,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Techniques,
Popol Vuh,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Count Five,
Lou Christie,
E-Dancer,
Q65,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Symarip,
The Standells,
The Misunderstood,
Cybotron,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tom Boy,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Associates,
Pole,
Pere Ubu,
Wolf Eyes,
Ponytail,
The Human League,
Motorama,
The Young Rascals,
The Moleskins,
Metal Thangz,
The Mojo Men,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang Green,
Yazoo,
The Offenders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeff Mills,
Quadrant,
The Cure,
The Smiths,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.