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 Tonga and from Lyon.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cecil Taylor to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
T. Rex,
Peter and Kerry,
Qualms,
Sandy B,
This Heat,
The Five Americans,
Black Sheep,
Deepchord,
E-Dancer,
Amon Düül II,
Grey Daturas,
Throbbing Gristle,
Albert Ayler,
Wasted Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
Morten Harket,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Procol Harum,
Moebius,
Clear Light,
Nick Fraelich,
Alphaville,
DJ Sneak,
Bluetip,
Adolescents,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Red Krayola,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fortunes,
Excepter,
Cheater Slicks,
X-Ray Spex,
the Human League,
Sister Nancy,
Zapp,
Joyce Sims,
Freddie Wadling,
Eric Copeland,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ponytail,
the Association,
The Victims,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scratch Acid,
Charles Mingus,
U.S. Maple,
Althea and Donna,
Dark Day,
Severed Heads,
Talk Talk,
The Dirtbombs,
Heaven 17,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Simply Red,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Prunes,
Soft Cell,
Radiohead,
the Slits,
The Sound,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.