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 Italy and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 clarinet 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 The Searchers to the funk 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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Goldenarms,
The Smoke,
Freddie Wadling,
Tres Demented,
Eve St. Jones,
Harry Pussy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang of Four,
Nils Olav,
This Heat,
Pylon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Robert Hood,
Tubeway Army,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Sherman,
Echospace,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lucky Dragons,
Agent Orange,
James White and The Blacks,
The Blackbyrds,
The Last Poets,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bootsy Collins,
Moby Grape,
The Selecter,
Hoover,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Angels of Light,
The Invisible,
Alice Coltrane,
Isaac Hayes,
The Doors,
Chris & Cosey,
Todd Terry,
La Düsseldorf,
AZ,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eric Copeland,
Howard Jones,
Lou Reed,
London Community Gospel Choir,
June Days,
Johnny Clarke,
Kenny Larkin,
The Raincoats,
cv313,
The Velvet Underground,
Henry Cow,
Traffic Nightmare,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Graham Central Station,
Brass Construction,
Fugazi,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Knickerbockers,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Walker Brothers,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.