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 Senegal and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Pharoah Sanders to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Little Man,
Carl Craig,
The Electric Prunes,
Fat Boys,
Pagans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Kinks,
Groovy Waters,
Altered Images,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Symarip,
Jandek,
Drive Like Jehu,
ABBA,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Q and Not U,
Khruangbin,
Neu!,
The Seeds,
Eddi Front,
Tubeway Army,
The Fire Engines,
Livin' Joy,
The Star Department,
Dark Day,
Jerry's Kids,
Gregory Isaacs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Cowsills,
The Birthday Party,
Connie Case,
Quantec,
Boz Scaggs,
Flipper,
Second Layer,
The Moody Blues,
Lalann,
Lyres,
Au Pairs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ohio Players,
Bobby Womack,
Yellowson,
Unwound,
The Associates,
Matthew Bourne,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Hashim,
Crime,
Dawn Penn,
New York Dolls,
Skriet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Holt,
Lee Hazlewood,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.