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 Madagascar and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet 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 Man Eating Sloth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
The Beau Brummels,
Minnie Riperton,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Knickerbockers,
New York Dolls,
Janne Schatter,
June Days,
Bang On A Can,
The Sonics,
Nils Olav,
Magazine,
Nas,
MDC,
E-Dancer,
Severed Heads,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tubeway Army,
PIL,
The United States of America,
Carl Craig,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David Axelrod,
the Slits,
Morten Harket,
Kurtis Blow,
Faraquet,
Newcleus,
World's Most,
Kerri Chandler,
CMW,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
DNA,
Dark Day,
These Immortal Souls,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pussy Galore,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sparks,
Mission of Burma,
Robert Wyatt,
Susan Cadogan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bobby Sherman,
Desert Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Sugar Minott,
Arthur Verocai,
Anakelly,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Monks,
Donny Hathaway,
DJ Sneak,
Essential Logic,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.