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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe 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 Quando Quango to the rap 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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Hoover,
Sandy B,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Matthew Halsall,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Slave,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Bar-Kays,
Marmalade,
The Electric Prunes,
Cybotron,
Bush Tetras,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Knickerbockers,
Colin Newman,
Lalo Schifrin,
Royal Trux,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joyce Sims,
John Lydon,
The Modern Lovers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Motorama,
Avey Tare,
Gichy Dan,
Wolf Eyes,
The Dead C,
Panda Bear,
Brothers Johnson,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gladiators,
The Doors,
Mad Mike,
Boredoms,
Section 25,
The Index,
The Toasters,
World's Most,
Darondo,
Nico,
Average White Band,
AZ,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Isaac Hayes,
Quando Quango,
Kerri Chandler,
Hot Snakes,
Lindisfarne,
Crime,
Pere Ubu,
New Age Steppers,
This Heat,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Graham Central Station,
Desert Stars,
Wings,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.