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 Nauru and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Invisible to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Wolf Eyes,
48th St. Collective,
Pole,
Robert Wyatt,
Loose Ends,
Surgeon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Swell Maps,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fear,
Bluetip,
T. Rex,
Make Up,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
KRS-One,
Cecil Taylor,
Half Japanese,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Raincoats,
Eric Copeland,
The Trojans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Qualms,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Swans,
the Sonics,
Colin Newman,
JFA,
The Selecter,
Derrick Morgan,
the Association,
Absolute Body Control,
Reagan Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Wasted Youth,
Donald Byrd,
Desert Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slave,
Amon Düül,
Man Parrish,
Sex Pistols,
Yazoo,
The Divine Comedy,
Arthur Verocai,
Pagans,
Neil Young,
Negative Approach,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
Thee Headcoats,
Sam Rivers,
Lee Hazlewood,
E-Dancer,
Hardrive,
The Five Americans,
The United States of America,
Gong,
The Tremeloes,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.