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 Iran and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Remains to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Silicon Teens,
The Standells,
The Zeros,
Buzzcocks,
AZ,
Stetsasonic,
Clear Light,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bush Tetras,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Victims,
Wasted Youth,
Minnie Riperton,
Jeff Lynne,
Babytalk,
Gang Gang Dance,
Susan Cadogan,
kango's stein massive,
Deepchord,
Eddi Front,
Lungfish,
Joensuu 1685,
Todd Terry,
Scrapy,
Loose Ends,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sister Nancy,
The Gap Band,
The Vogues,
R.M.O.,
Talk Talk,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang Green,
Wally Richardson,
The Angels of Light,
Yazoo,
Fad Gadget,
Brick,
Tubeway Army,
the Swans,
The Mummies,
Aaron Thompson,
Tears for Fears,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Darondo,
Metal Thangz,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
D'Angelo,
Grauzone,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Warsaw,
Joe Smooth,
Monolake,
The Moody Blues,
Isaac Hayes,
Connie Case,
Steve Hackett,
Severed Heads,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.