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 Panama and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Freddie Wadling to the crunk 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Agent Orange,
Livin' Joy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nick Fraelich,
Gong,
Hoover,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ronan,
Lebanon Hanover,
Public Image Ltd.,
Brick,
Marvin Gaye,
Maurizio,
CMW,
The J.B.'s,
The Blackbyrds,
Chrome,
Scott Walker,
Mandrill,
Sarah Menescal,
the Association,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kayak,
Sixth Finger,
Fugazi,
the Bar-Kays,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mad Mike,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harpers Bizarre,
David McCallum,
Eli Mardock,
Smog,
Black Moon,
Barry Ungar,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Popol Vuh,
Barclay James Harvest,
Piero Umiliani,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
La Düsseldorf,
World's Most,
Thompson Twins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nils Olav,
The Cure,
Average White Band,
Boredoms,
Prince Buster,
Sight & Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Babytalk,
Johnny Clarke,
Siglo XX,
Albert Ayler,
The Fugs,
Sex Pistols,
Anthony Braxton,
Porter Ricks,
David Bowie,
Supertramp,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.