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 Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Derrick Morgan to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Bush Tetras,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Boz Scaggs,
Theoretical Girls,
Dead Boys,
ABBA,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Searchers,
The Moleskins,
Simply Red,
Crime,
Amon Düül II,
Dark Day,
Delta 5,
Fad Gadget,
Eurythmics,
Hasil Adkins,
The Leaves,
The Doors,
Fatback Band,
Sister Nancy,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
Goldenarms,
Scientists,
Los Fastidios,
Sandy B,
Patti Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Q65,
The Zeros,
Whodini,
Rosa Yemen,
Byron Stingily,
Janne Schatter,
David McCallum,
The Smiths,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ultimate Spinach,
Robert Görl,
The American Breed,
DJ Sneak,
K-Klass,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sun City Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Altered Images,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Easy Going,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Alton Ellis,
The Martian,
Ralphi Rosario,
Althea and Donna,
Clear Light,
Jawbox,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.