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 France and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Quantec to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Scientists,
London Community Gospel Choir,
ABC,
Deakin,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joy Division,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultravox,
Johnny Clarke,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quadrant,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Skriet,
The Slits,
Harry Pussy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Young Marble Giants,
The Techniques,
Lyres,
Severed Heads,
Deepchord,
The American Breed,
Connie Case,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Last Poets,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soft Machine,
Gregory Isaacs,
Morten Harket,
Iggy Pop,
Ice-T,
Anakelly,
The Pop Group,
Accadde A,
Porter Ricks,
Davy DMX,
Nils Olav,
Crash Course in Science,
Sugar Minott,
Surgeon,
U.S. Maple,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Star Department,
Parry Music,
Terry Callier,
Simply Red,
Mr. Review,
The Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
Urselle,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
CMW,
The Five Americans,
Silicon Teens,
Fugazi,
Scion,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.