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 New Zealand and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Steve Hackett to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Barry Ungar,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Average White Band,
The Dead C,
Monolake,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Zapp,
La Düsseldorf,
H. Thieme,
Sam Rivers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Intrusion,
Mark Hollis,
Nas,
The Selecter,
Oneida,
Skarface,
The Moody Blues,
UT,
The Monochrome Set,
E-Dancer,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Stooges,
Theoretical Girls,
Henry Cow,
The Real Kids,
Junior Murvin,
Suicide,
Skaos,
Darondo,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cymande,
Arab on Radar,
Ultravox,
Make Up,
the Slits,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Modern Lovers,
Surgeon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fuzztones,
Roxy Music,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Reagan Youth,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
Scott Walker,
Marshall Jefferson,
Toni Rubio,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
June of 44,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mo-Dettes,
Bush Tetras,
JFA,
Kurtis Blow,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.