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 Djibouti and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Alarm Clocks to the punk 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Albert Ayler,
Infiniti,
Minutemen,
Fat Boys,
Crime,
Ossler,
The Names,
Parry Music,
Malaria!,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Don Cherry,
Moby Grape,
Q65,
Harry Pussy,
World's Most,
Gang of Four,
Tomorrow,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tom Boy,
The Move,
The Gories,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Toasters,
Clear Light,
Shoche,
Massinfluence,
Wally Richardson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Christie,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Whodini,
Rosa Yemen,
Avey Tare,
Kerri Chandler,
Pylon,
Gang Green,
Thee Headcoats,
The Invisible,
The Dead C,
Zapp,
Royal Trux,
Fugazi,
Lightning Bolt,
The Red Krayola,
Steve Hackett,
Andrew Hill,
the Slits,
Mandrill,
A Certain Ratio,
ABC,
Jerry's Kids,
The J.B.'s,
Arab on Radar,
Blancmange,
Desert Stars,
The Zeros,
Livin' Joy,
Goldenarms,
Organ,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud.
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.