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 Iceland and from Paris.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar 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 Lou Reed & Metallica 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Soft Machine,
The Sound,
Todd Terry,
Ohio Players,
Porter Ricks,
The Durutti Column,
Flash Fearless,
Ronan,
Tears for Fears,
Ossler,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Move,
The Grass Roots,
James White and The Blacks,
Matthew Halsall,
T.S.O.L.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Accadde A,
The Beau Brummels,
Quantec,
Eric Copeland,
X-101,
Albert Ayler,
The Dave Clark Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Tim Buckley,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Popol Vuh,
Gichy Dan,
The Gun Club,
Blake Baxter,
Pantytec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Vainqueur,
Laurel Aitken,
Mission of Burma,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Ultra Naté,
Drexciya,
Aural Exciters,
Rod Modell,
Camouflage,
Country Teasers,
Funky Four + One,
Vladislav Delay,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minny Pops,
The Vogues,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
kango's stein massive,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Normal,
Delta 5,
Althea and Donna,
Henry Cow,
The J.B.'s,
The Martian,
the Germs,
The Invisible,
Black Moon,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.