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 Bangladesh and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gories to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeff Lynne,
Chrome,
The Seeds,
The American Breed,
JFA,
Harmonia,
John Foxx,
Radio Birdman,
F. McDonald,
The United States of America,
Moebius,
Smog,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sam Rivers,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eurythmics,
The Slackers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sixth Finger,
Warsaw,
Hashim,
Nico,
Trumans Water,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fall,
David Axelrod,
Joyce Sims,
T.S.O.L.,
Reuben Wilson,
Sandy B,
Juan Atkins,
Pagans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dead Boys,
Terry Callier,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Velvet Underground,
Cal Tjader,
The Fugs,
Newcleus,
The Real Kids,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Gap Band,
Donald Byrd,
Jacob Miller,
Nick Fraelich,
Gang Gang Dance,
Electric Prunes,
Nirvana,
Lindisfarne,
Warren Ellis,
Deadbeat,
Connie Case,
Soulsonic Force,
Zapp,
The Trojans,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.