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 Mali and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet 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 Sunsets and Hearts to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DNA,
The Evens,
Fad Gadget,
Roger Hodgson,
Moss Icon,
The Slackers,
The Trojans,
Mad Mike,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Green,
Aswad,
Pole,
X-Ray Spex,
The United States of America,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Brass Construction,
The Shadows of Knight,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rakim,
Can,
Sparks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Unwound,
Arab on Radar,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grandmaster Flash,
Q and Not U,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Siglo XX,
Fort Wilson Riot,
EPMD,
James White and The Blacks,
Erasure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Gap Band,
Aaron Thompson,
The Tremeloes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Magma,
Vainqueur,
FM Einheit,
Mo-Dettes,
Spandau Ballet,
Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
DJ Sneak,
China Crisis,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Heaven 17,
Amon Düül,
Mars,
The Dirtbombs,
David Bowie,
Throbbing Gristle,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cramps,
the Swans,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.