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 Romania and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Brick to the dance 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Liliput,
The Grass Roots,
The Offenders,
Jeff Mills,
The Knickerbockers,
Mission of Burma,
Nils Olav,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nik Kershaw,
The Modern Lovers,
The Count Five,
A Certain Ratio,
Shoche,
Sound Behaviour,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joy Division,
The Barracudas,
Tubeway Army,
Siglo XX,
The Young Rascals,
Mr. Review,
John Cale,
The Residents,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eve St. Jones,
Wally Richardson,
John Coltrane,
Sonic Youth,
The Real Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Motorama,
Jacob Miller,
Terry Callier,
Faust,
The Fortunes,
Sandy B,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
Bobby Womack,
Aloha Tigers,
Harry Pussy,
Agent Orange,
The Moody Blues,
Susan Cadogan,
Wire,
The Golliwogs,
Porter Ricks,
Cal Tjader,
Goldenarms,
Lower 48,
Pulsallama,
Bob Dylan,
Nirvana,
Bluetip,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Outsiders,
Deadbeat,
Kayak,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.