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 Haiti and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barrington Levy 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Quadrant,
Letta Mbulu,
Eric Copeland,
Sexual Harrassment,
Arthur Verocai,
Todd Terry,
The Trojans,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Martian,
Jeff Lynne,
Model 500,
Qualms,
Bang On A Can,
Rites of Spring,
Theoretical Girls,
The Neon Judgement,
Barry Ungar,
Dawn Penn,
Half Japanese,
Roxy Music,
Khruangbin,
Harmonia,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marc Almond,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythm & Sound,
Outsiders,
Neu!,
The Golliwogs,
James White and The Blacks,
Fatback Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Patti Smith,
Nick Fraelich,
The Slackers,
Pole,
Youth Brigade,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Subhumans,
The Toasters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Deadbeat,
Ultra Naté,
Ken Boothe,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fat Boys,
The Litter,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hoover,
Funkadelic,
Max Romeo,
D'Angelo,
The Human League,
DJ Sneak,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Amazonics,
Graham Central Station,
Eden Ahbez,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.