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 Ivory Coast and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro 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 Silicon Teens to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Mars,
Dark Day,
Sarah Menescal,
The Count Five,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Desert Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Red Krayola,
The Buckinghams,
Oneida,
The Beau Brummels,
PIL,
Tomorrow,
Boredoms,
Jacques Brel,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Martian,
Graham Central Station,
Oblivians,
Janne Schatter,
a-ha,
Kurtis Blow,
Dennis Brown,
Don Cherry,
Lower 48,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dead Boys,
Clear Light,
Motorama,
Bad Manners,
John Holt,
The Happenings,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Newcleus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
Michelle Simonal,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Shoche,
Josef K,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jimmy McGriff,
China Crisis,
Todd Rundgren,
Yaz,
Gichy Dan,
Godley & Creme,
The Grass Roots,
Aural Exciters,
Marshall Jefferson,
James White and The Blacks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Circle Jerks,
Tim Buckley,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tubeway Army,
John Coltrane,
The Tremeloes,
John Foxx,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.