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 Luxembourg and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk 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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Sun City Girls,
Wasted Youth,
Newcleus,
Underground Resistance,
Surgeon,
Excepter,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Soft Cell,
Royal Trux,
Sun Ra,
Tomorrow,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Litter,
Mission of Burma,
Brothers Johnson,
The Smiths,
Lyres,
Metal Thangz,
Minutemen,
Boredoms,
Moby Grape,
Johnny Osbourne,
Glenn Branca,
Echospace,
B.T. Express,
Lee Hazlewood,
AZ,
A Certain Ratio,
The Monks,
Sarah Menescal,
Barry Ungar,
Mars,
ABBA,
Duran Duran,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Archie Shepp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Star Department,
Aaron Thompson,
Oneida,
These Immortal Souls,
Suicide,
Curtis Mayfield,
The New Christs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Janne Schatter,
Idris Muhammad,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Angels of Light,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Human League,
Derrick Morgan,
Cybotron,
a-ha,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Monochrome Set,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Brand Nubian,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.