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 Estonia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 kango's stein massive to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Ultimate Spinach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jimmy McGriff,
Siglo XX,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sandy B,
Symarip,
48th St. Collective,
Tres Demented,
New York Dolls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tropical Tobacco,
Procol Harum,
Brick,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Grass Roots,
Masters at Work,
DJ Sneak,
Bad Manners,
Adolescents,
The Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Niagra,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Massinfluence,
Fugazi,
Rapeman,
X-Ray Spex,
Neil Young,
Buzzcocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Anakelly,
Barclay James Harvest,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Angels of Light,
Byron Stingily,
Throbbing Gristle,
Howard Jones,
Scratch Acid,
The Barracudas,
Eve St. Jones,
Marmalade,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harry Pussy,
Au Pairs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Qualms,
The New Christs,
Bluetip,
Warsaw,
Sällskapet,
Mad Mike,
Tim Buckley,
Model 500,
The Trojans,
The Slits,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.