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 Congo and from Delhi.
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 Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Victims to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Deadbeat,
Marvin Gaye,
Laurel Aitken,
Warren Ellis,
Bill Wells,
Bang On A Can,
Theoretical Girls,
Lou Christie,
Kerrie Biddell,
Man Parrish,
Pulsallama,
UT,
Scion,
Anthony Braxton,
Todd Rundgren,
Stetsasonic,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Kinks,
Bootsy Collins,
Ronnie Foster,
the Swans,
The Victims,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Von Mondo,
Fluxion,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Moody Blues,
Arcadia,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Divine Comedy,
Los Fastidios,
The Walker Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
Black Moon,
Qualms,
Colin Newman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
DJ Sneak,
Ludus,
James White and The Blacks,
K-Klass,
Sonny Sharrock,
Charles Mingus,
Flash Fearless,
Roger Hodgson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABC,
The Sonics,
Bad Manners,
Spandau Ballet,
Gregory Isaacs,
Yellowson,
Peter and Kerry,
Sarah Menescal,
Cal Tjader,
Brothers Johnson,
Amon Düül,
The Saints,
Magazine,
Gichy Dan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.