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 Belize and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Rites of Spring to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fatback Band,
Motorama,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
T. Rex,
Barrington Levy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Derrick May,
Lyres,
Kerri Chandler,
Hardrive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tom Boy,
The Red Krayola,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joe Smooth,
Warren Ellis,
Bill Wells,
Ultra Naté,
Amazonics,
Niagra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Sight & Sound,
Swans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Alarm Clocks,
Camouflage,
Oneida,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Happenings,
The Doors,
Young Marble Giants,
La Düsseldorf,
Subhumans,
Gabor Szabo,
The Kinks,
Bauhaus,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Steve Hackett,
Leonard Cohen,
Lakeside,
Average White Band,
Trumans Water,
Marc Almond,
Janne Schatter,
Ronan,
Thompson Twins,
Nirvana,
Q and Not U,
Jandek,
Bush Tetras,
Surgeon,
The Velvet Underground,
Kas Product,
Cheater Slicks,
Kayak,
Neil Young,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sex Pistols,
Soulsonic Force,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.