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 United States and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 Soft Machine 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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Yazoo,
The Gun Club,
The Litter,
The Stooges,
The Velvet Underground,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Christie,
Derrick Morgan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
James White and The Blacks,
The Offenders,
Alice Coltrane,
Matthew Halsall,
Warsaw,
Fatback Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
DJ Style,
Cal Tjader,
Kevin Saunderson,
a-ha,
Lindisfarne,
Jeff Mills,
The Residents,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
Soft Cell,
The Slackers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faraquet,
Terrestrial Tones,
Little Man,
Aloha Tigers,
Roxette,
Infiniti,
Archie Shepp,
Marmalade,
Black Pus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Smoke,
Barry Ungar,
The Angels of Light,
Faust,
Bang On A Can,
Blake Baxter,
Severed Heads,
Gabor Szabo,
Ossler,
Dead Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Bob Dylan,
Sällskapet,
Davy DMX,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fall,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Sherman,
Quando Quango,
The Detroit Cobras,
Newcleus,
Nick Fraelich,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.