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 South Sudan and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Goldenarms to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Alarm Clocks,
Smog,
Ronnie Foster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Monks,
Fat Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
Crispy Ambulance,
Howard Jones,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Sheep,
Radiohead,
Nas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Radio Birdman,
Terry Callier,
The Move,
Junior Murvin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Colin Newman,
Warren Ellis,
Arab on Radar,
Rod Modell,
Bobby Womack,
Boz Scaggs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lalo Schifrin,
Symarip,
Roy Ayers,
Cluster,
Scan 7,
The Martian,
Dorothy Ashby,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Schoolly D,
Ice-T,
Mr. Review,
Dead Boys,
Public Enemy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Anakelly,
Man Eating Sloth,
Faraquet,
The Dead C,
Second Layer,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Blackbyrds,
The Divine Comedy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Simply Red,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aswad,
Matthew Halsall,
Camouflage,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Monolake,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.