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 Monaco and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Juan Atkins to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Gang Green,
Faust,
The Invisible,
Bush Tetras,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun Ra,
Eli Mardock,
cv313,
Adolescents,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crash Course in Science,
Pussy Galore,
The Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Flamin' Groovies,
Laurel Aitken,
Q and Not U,
Oblivians,
Bill Wells,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Arthur Verocai,
Sonic Youth,
Slave,
Japan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dead C,
Stereo Dub,
Scrapy,
The Vogues,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Cale,
Animal Collective,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare,
The Sonics,
Roy Ayers,
The Moody Blues,
Bootsy Collins,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Shoche,
Wasted Youth,
Parry Music,
Boz Scaggs,
Agent Orange,
The Fugs,
Mandrill,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eden Ahbez,
Jawbox,
Tommy Roe,
Cameo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kas Product,
Alison Limerick,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Anakelly,
Bob Dylan,
The Gories,
Sparks,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.