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 Cuba and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum 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 Moody Blues to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Bob Dylan,
Jacob Miller,
Tears for Fears,
Lower 48,
Frankie Knuckles,
Al Stewart,
Bill Near,
The Angels of Light,
Talk Talk,
Moby Grape,
Popol Vuh,
Wire,
The Divine Comedy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bauhaus,
Thompson Twins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Con Funk Shun,
Swans,
OOIOO,
Juan Atkins,
Kerri Chandler,
Bobby Sherman,
Marmalade,
EPMD,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
T. Rex,
Jesper Dahlback,
Matthew Halsall,
Charles Mingus,
Deepchord,
Tommy Roe,
Graham Central Station,
Suburban Knight,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Standells,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kas Product,
Unwound,
Young Marble Giants,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gong,
Dual Sessions,
Livin' Joy,
Magazine,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fela Kuti,
The Real Kids,
Adolescents,
Trumans Water,
cv313,
Suicide,
Dave Gahan,
The Buckinghams,
Nico,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.