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 Libya and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
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 arpeggiator 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
Roxette,
Quantec,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Star Department,
Marvin Gaye,
Maleditus Sound,
The Doors,
The Fire Engines,
The Gun Club,
Blake Baxter,
the Normal,
Barry Ungar,
Funky Four + One,
Saccharine Trust,
Cybotron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Holt,
Sam Rivers,
Davy DMX,
Flipper,
The Victims,
New Age Steppers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Graham Central Station,
The Happenings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Pus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pussy Galore,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nick Fraelich,
Camberwell Now,
The Red Krayola,
T. Rex,
Rotary Connection,
Wings,
Jawbox,
Lou Reed,
Alphaville,
Minor Threat,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gang of Four,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Glenn Branca,
Altered Images,
Grauzone,
Alison Limerick,
Soul II Soul,
Eric Copeland,
The Grass Roots,
Silicon Teens,
X-Ray Spex,
Sight & Sound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Franke,
Second Layer,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.