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 Rwanda and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 The Dead C to the dance 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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
John Coltrane,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Starr,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kayak,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joe Finger,
Janne Schatter,
Crash Course in Science,
Juan Atkins,
Pantytec,
10cc,
The Move,
The Cowsills,
Quando Quango,
The Stooges,
Guru Guru,
Swans,
Sonny Sharrock,
AZ,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Searchers,
MC5,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Association,
Robert Görl,
Angry Samoans,
Roy Ayers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Supertramp,
One Last Wish,
Eden Ahbez,
Bauhaus,
The Techniques,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Matthew Bourne,
Darondo,
Moss Icon,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Reed,
The Index,
Fela Kuti,
Goldenarms,
R.M.O.,
Das Ding,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
David Axelrod,
F. McDonald,
Ronan,
The Blues Magoos,
Altered Images,
Wings,
The Standells,
Letta Mbulu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Silicon Teens,
Scion,
Surgeon,
Wally Richardson,
Roxy Music,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.