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 Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Lyon and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 David Bowie 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 Ponytail to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
New York Dolls,
The Offenders,
the Germs,
Accadde A,
Fugazi,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Stooges,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Names,
R.M.O.,
Outsiders,
T. Rex,
ABBA,
Michelle Simonal,
D'Angelo,
Mandrill,
Monolake,
the Soft Cell,
Man Parrish,
Camberwell Now,
Oneida,
Bobby Womack,
10cc,
Theoretical Girls,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fire Engines,
Susan Cadogan,
Deakin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Steve Hackett,
Procol Harum,
Hoover,
Erasure,
Althea and Donna,
A Certain Ratio,
Tom Boy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Magazine,
The Neon Judgement,
The Techniques,
Aswad,
The Angels of Light,
Excepter,
The Wake,
Quando Quango,
Iggy Pop,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sarah Menescal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Charles Mingus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Yellowson,
Supertramp,
The Kinks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pantaleimon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Siglo XX,
Sight & Sound,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.