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 Suriname and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Mummies to the funk 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
F. McDonald,
Marmalade,
Robert Hood,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Standells,
The Remains,
The Velvet Underground,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Groovy Waters,
Boz Scaggs,
The J.B.'s,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Offenders,
Joyce Sims,
The Toasters,
LL Cool J,
The Dead C,
Pantytec,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brass Construction,
Ten City,
Nik Kershaw,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Surgeon,
Nas,
Blancmange,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Procol Harum,
Magazine,
Roy Ayers,
Pylon,
Shuggie Otis,
The Durutti Column,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Five Americans,
Pantaleimon,
UT,
The Index,
Technova,
Desert Stars,
H. Thieme,
Interpol,
E-Dancer,
The New Christs,
Tim Buckley,
This Heat,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Unwound,
The Sonics,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Juan Atkins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Brick,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Bananas,
Moss Icon,
Todd Rundgren,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.