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 Mongolia and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb 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 Junior Murvin to the rap 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Colin Newman,
Excepter,
Thompson Twins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gang Gang Dance,
Robert Hood,
Sight & Sound,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Kool Moe Dee,
Blossom Toes,
X-102,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Starr,
Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
The Motions,
The Names,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fire Engines,
Black Bananas,
Harpers Bizarre,
X-Ray Spex,
Khruangbin,
The Knickerbockers,
Nirvana,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sugar Minott,
Eden Ahbez,
Livin' Joy,
Siglo XX,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sex Pistols,
Graham Central Station,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Subhumans,
New Age Steppers,
Vladislav Delay,
48th St. Collective,
The Gories,
Fugazi,
Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Dead C,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Robert Görl,
Saccharine Trust,
8 Eyed Spy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tom Boy,
Young Marble Giants,
Mark Hollis,
Quadrant,
The Residents,
Crispy Ambulance,
Panda Bear,
Jandek,
Visage,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marvin Gaye,
Iggy Pop,
ABBA,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.