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 Ecuador and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eli Mardock to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Spandau Ballet,
Patti Smith,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
Lou Reed,
Sandy B,
Duran Duran,
Erykah Badu,
Sight & Sound,
Dual Sessions,
Sister Nancy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deadbeat,
The Fire Engines,
Deepchord,
Eurythmics,
The Busters,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rufus Thomas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra,
Scion,
Silicon Teens,
The Neon Judgement,
Blossom Toes,
Kenny Larkin,
In Retrospect,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Monochrome Set,
Alice Coltrane,
Joey Negro,
Robert Hood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Icehouse,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pole,
Pharoah Sanders,
Reuben Wilson,
Traffic Nightmare,
James White and The Blacks,
Q and Not U,
The Golliwogs,
Gabor Szabo,
Charles Mingus,
Grauzone,
The Velvet Underground,
Aloha Tigers,
Nils Olav,
Groovy Waters,
The Selecter,
Hardrive,
Electric Prunes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Leaves,
Malaria!,
The Blues Magoos,
The Names,
Barbara Tucker,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.