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 Romania and from Manchester.
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 Spokane and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Freddie Wadling to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Steve Hackett,
Basic Channel,
The Skatalites,
Black Flag,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Association,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Litter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rites of Spring,
Isaac Hayes,
Camberwell Now,
Ultravox,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Slick Rick,
The Flesh Eaters,
Skriet,
the Swans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
48th St. Collective,
The Doors,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roxy Music,
Neil Young,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Metal Thangz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Residents,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ten City,
Kurtis Blow,
The Neon Judgement,
FM Einheit,
Goldenarms,
June Days,
Lebanon Hanover,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Young Rascals,
The Grass Roots,
The Mojo Men,
The Human League,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joyce Sims,
The Buckinghams,
The Index,
Rapeman,
Minny Pops,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tim Buckley,
The Toasters,
Godley & Creme,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Kinks,
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.