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 Samoa and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Harmonia to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
the Germs,
The Angels of Light,
The Offenders,
This Heat,
Black Bananas,
Massinfluence,
Kenny Larkin,
Sister Nancy,
Half Japanese,
Blancmange,
June Days,
CMW,
The Skatalites,
Theoretical Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Soul II Soul,
Skarface,
Porter Ricks,
Ultravox,
The American Breed,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pantaleimon,
Nirvana,
The Pop Group,
Pere Ubu,
The Standells,
Marc Almond,
the Sonics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fatback Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Association,
Pussy Galore,
Surgeon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang On A Can,
Flipper,
Wolf Eyes,
Niagra,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scratch Acid,
Groovy Waters,
Lyres,
Stiv Bators,
Cybotron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Freddie Wadling,
John Foxx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Bar-Kays,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harpers Bizarre,
Public Image Ltd.,
Junior Murvin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Soft Cell,
The Red Krayola,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.