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 Tuvalu and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Michael McDonald 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 Marvin Gaye to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Steve Hackett,
Amazonics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
La Düsseldorf,
Oblivians,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Model 500,
Thompson Twins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Vogues,
The Beau Brummels,
Henry Cow,
Susan Cadogan,
Popol Vuh,
the Human League,
Das Ding,
Blossom Toes,
Nils Olav,
Accadde A,
Roxette,
The Gladiators,
Minutemen,
T. Rex,
Faust,
The Litter,
These Immortal Souls,
Groovy Waters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cameo,
Soft Cell,
Ossler,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Symarip,
Liliput,
David Axelrod,
Anakelly,
Eric B and Rakim,
Robert Hood,
Yellowson,
Nico,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tim Buckley,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
48th St. Collective,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pole,
Lucky Dragons,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Slits,
Grey Daturas,
The Real Kids,
Joyce Sims,
Charles Mingus,
Patti Smith,
the Sonics,
Pantytec,
The Leaves,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.