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 Slovakia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes 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 Maurizio to the jazz 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
D'Angelo,
Alison Limerick,
These Immortal Souls,
Crime,
John Coltrane,
Ice-T,
Prince Buster,
Anakelly,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Danielle Patucci,
Aural Exciters,
The Birthday Party,
The Five Americans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kaleidoscope,
Fat Boys,
John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Visage,
Smog,
Gang Green,
Terry Callier,
Harry Pussy,
Simply Red,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lower 48,
Roy Ayers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Symarip,
Black Sheep,
Goldenarms,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Associates,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Busters,
U.S. Maple,
Black Moon,
Barrington Levy,
Black Flag,
Amon Düül,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jesper Dahlback,
Q65,
Agitation Free,
Make Up,
the Bar-Kays,
Crash Course in Science,
Arcadia,
Fugazi,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Maleditus Sound,
the Normal,
The Residents,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Accadde A,
Slick Rick,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.