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 Moldova and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the rap 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Neon Judgement,
Flamin' Groovies,
Amon Düül,
Camouflage,
The Monks,
Bob Dylan,
Hasil Adkins,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Moon,
Unwound,
Bush Tetras,
Sun Ra,
Basic Channel,
Alton Ellis,
Warsaw,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
David Axelrod,
The Blues Magoos,
Adolescents,
Aaron Thompson,
Leonard Cohen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Parrish,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Bar-Kays,
Kayak,
Mo-Dettes,
Arcadia,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott Heron,
Throbbing Gristle,
James White and The Blacks,
Cluster,
The Remains,
Fluxion,
Camberwell Now,
Interpol,
Electric Prunes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Circle Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
Second Layer,
Josef K,
Maurizio,
One Last Wish,
Skarface,
Rhythm & Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Fania All-Stars,
New Age Steppers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wire,
Liliput,
Visage,
Scion,
Bad Manners,
K-Klass,
Maleditus Sound,
Yellowson,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.