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 Djibouti and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron 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 Junior Murvin to the funk 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Accadde A,
D'Angelo,
Liliput,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Mojo Men,
Gerry Rafferty,
Silicon Teens,
Barrington Levy,
L. Decosne,
Rufus Thomas,
The Slackers,
Wings,
Pulsallama,
Stetsasonic,
World's Most,
Dead Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marvin Gaye,
Yusef Lateef,
Colin Newman,
Black Pus,
Main Source,
LL Cool J,
Rosa Yemen,
Aloha Tigers,
Brothers Johnson,
the Association,
Joyce Sims,
Clear Light,
The Sound,
Goldenarms,
Popol Vuh,
Neil Young,
Juan Atkins,
Tears for Fears,
Tommy Roe,
Fat Boys,
Ituana,
Eve St. Jones,
Second Layer,
Traffic Nightmare,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soulsonic Force,
Spoonie Gee,
Ossler,
Nirvana,
Lalann,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Busters,
Agitation Free,
Cluster,
Ultimate Spinach,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dirtbombs,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.