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 Ivory Coast and from Houston.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Pagans to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Vainqueur,
Pussy Galore,
K-Klass,
X-101,
The Evens,
Minnie Riperton,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terry Callier,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The New Christs,
The Moleskins,
Neu!,
Circle Jerks,
Alison Limerick,
Quando Quango,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Stooges,
Organ,
Marc Almond,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Raincoats,
The Cowsills,
Grauzone,
Jawbox,
Lou Christie,
Fatback Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aaron Thompson,
Don Cherry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Absolute Body Control,
Patti Smith,
The American Breed,
Crispy Ambulance,
Trumans Water,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Barracudas,
Surgeon,
Bluetip,
Henry Cow,
Nick Fraelich,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Model 500,
Neil Young,
Procol Harum,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gladiators,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Young Rascals,
Maleditus Sound,
Magazine,
Qualms,
Jeff Mills,
Skarface,
H. Thieme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blues Magoos,
Robert Hood,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.