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 Angola and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 organ 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 Pussy Galore to the disco 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Malaria!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cure,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
Junior Murvin,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Move,
Glenn Branca,
The Techniques,
Nas,
The Associates,
Tommy Roe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barrington Levy,
The Smoke,
The Stooges,
Freddie Wadling,
Joey Negro,
Donald Byrd,
The Dirtbombs,
Fatback Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nation of Ulysses,
Monks,
Man Parrish,
Fela Kuti,
Charles Mingus,
Tubeway Army,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Y Pants,
Moebius,
Massinfluence,
Rufus Thomas,
Erykah Badu,
The Saints,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bluetip,
Negative Approach,
Bobby Sherman,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Womack,
Gichy Dan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ornette Coleman,
Sixth Finger,
La Düsseldorf,
Tom Boy,
Oblivians,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rites of Spring,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Boz Scaggs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Cowsills,
The Blues Magoos,
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.