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 Libya and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Donald Fagen 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
ABC,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Neu!,
Loose Ends,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
Moss Icon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultra Naté,
Deepchord,
The Fire Engines,
Fluxion,
Skaos,
Henry Cow,
the Germs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eddi Front,
Infiniti,
Y Pants,
a-ha,
Sam Rivers,
The Motions,
Ten City,
Althea and Donna,
Index,
Kerri Chandler,
Prince Buster,
Albert Ayler,
Niagra,
Trumans Water,
Deadbeat,
Mark Hollis,
Motorama,
Bobby Byrd,
Byron Stingily,
Swell Maps,
Scion,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Swans,
Harmonia,
Donny Hathaway,
T. Rex,
Alison Limerick,
Alphaville,
Black Bananas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Last Poets,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fugazi,
Danielle Patucci,
The Move,
David Bowie,
Surgeon,
Echospace,
Ohio Players,
The Gories,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.