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 Vanuatu and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Young Marble Giants to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Q65. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Tommy Roe,
B.T. Express,
Jerry's Kids,
Steve Hackett,
Dead Boys,
Roxette,
Joe Finger,
John Cale,
Chris Corsano,
The Neon Judgement,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wings,
Alice Coltrane,
The Names,
Unrelated Segments,
Crispy Ambulance,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nas,
Sex Pistols,
Sister Nancy,
Dual Sessions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Interpol,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ossler,
Hoover,
Soul II Soul,
The Gap Band,
Altered Images,
Monolake,
Half Japanese,
Kayak,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bobby Hutcherson,
David Bowie,
Lakeside,
The Happenings,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Martian,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Michelle Simonal,
Boz Scaggs,
Tomorrow,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lungfish,
Blossom Toes,
Pussy Galore,
Byron Stingily,
Scientists,
The Tremeloes,
The Music Machine,
Moby Grape,
Index,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.