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 Papua New Guinea and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Mary Jane Girls to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Matthew Halsall,
Kayak,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Beau Brummels,
The Last Poets,
Fifty Foot Hose,
10cc,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sound Behaviour,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sex Pistols,
Tubeway Army,
Saccharine Trust,
These Immortal Souls,
Amon Düül,
E-Dancer,
Eric Dolphy,
Bobby Womack,
Kurtis Blow,
Mark Hollis,
Peter and Kerry,
Blancmange,
Sixth Finger,
The Slits,
the Fania All-Stars,
Blossom Toes,
Scratch Acid,
The Walker Brothers,
The Stooges,
Toni Rubio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Al Stewart,
B.T. Express,
The Monochrome Set,
Harmonia,
Babytalk,
The Trojans,
The Red Krayola,
Pagans,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
EPMD,
Funkadelic,
the Slits,
Porter Ricks,
Radio Birdman,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Kinks,
Bang On A Can,
F. McDonald,
KRS-One,
Ludus,
Royal Trux,
Agent Orange,
Harry Pussy,
Ice-T,
The Skatalites,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.