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 Somalia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the rock 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Unwound,
the Slits,
The Golliwogs,
The Monks,
Joe Finger,
Flash Fearless,
Interpol,
Sonic Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Barry Ungar,
Pussy Galore,
Darondo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eve St. Jones,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Alice Coltrane,
The Raincoats,
The Selecter,
The Gladiators,
Nick Fraelich,
Pere Ubu,
Yazoo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Remains,
Barrington Levy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minny Pops,
The Moody Blues,
Roy Ayers,
Faust,
Amon Düül II,
Byron Stingily,
Avey Tare,
Ituana,
MDC,
Laurel Aitken,
Liliput,
the Germs,
DNA,
Eddi Front,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Neon Judgement,
Sun City Girls,
Neil Young,
Cal Tjader,
Bobby Sherman,
One Last Wish,
Gang Green,
Johnny Clarke,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bluetip,
Warren Ellis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Terry Callier,
Gichy Dan,
Little Man,
Mantronix,
Magma,
Crime,
Agent Orange,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.