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 Tonga and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
The Golliwogs,
Can,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jandek,
The Index,
Alphaville,
Ultra Naté,
Pantytec,
Ultravox,
Q and Not U,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cymande,
Saccharine Trust,
CMW,
MC5,
The Offenders,
Neu!,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kaleidoscope,
Sister Nancy,
The Knickerbockers,
Warren Ellis,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yusef Lateef,
The Monks,
Isaac Hayes,
The Sonics,
New York Dolls,
Chris Corsano,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nick Fraelich,
Johnny Clarke,
Juan Atkins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rekid,
The Fuzztones,
Ronnie Foster,
Cybotron,
Parry Music,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tom Boy,
Buzzcocks,
Mars,
Thompson Twins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Archie Shepp,
Roxy Music,
Freddie Wadling,
The Cure,
One Last Wish,
These Immortal Souls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eric Copeland,
Gichy Dan,
Fluxion,
New Order,
Skriet,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.