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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Pretty Things,
Cecil Taylor,
Crime,
Bobby Womack,
Brothers Johnson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dual Sessions,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Soft Cell,
Radiopuhelimet,
Basic Channel,
Main Source,
Porter Ricks,
Sixth Finger,
The Litter,
Black Pus,
The Five Americans,
Can,
ABBA,
World's Most,
FM Einheit,
New York Dolls,
Sam Rivers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The United States of America,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joey Negro,
Khruangbin,
Model 500,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bob Dylan,
Connie Case,
Lalann,
The Residents,
Gang of Four,
Jeru the Damaja,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dead C,
Scion,
Lee Hazlewood,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Deadbeat,
Unwound,
The Real Kids,
Iggy Pop,
John Lydon,
Duran Duran,
Pere Ubu,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Siglo XX,
The Seeds,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Average White Band,
Henry Cow,
Ronnie Foster,
The Associates,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Grey Daturas,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.