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 Andorra and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 These Immortal Souls to the jazz 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Lower 48,
The Black Dice,
Johnny Clarke,
The Mummies,
Alton Ellis,
Main Source,
Rites of Spring,
Scan 7,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sonic Youth,
Slave,
Terry Callier,
Spandau Ballet,
X-101,
The Evens,
Alice Coltrane,
Qualms,
Jacob Miller,
Harmonia,
The Dirtbombs,
Quadrant,
The Angels of Light,
David McCallum,
Los Fastidios,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
ABC,
L. Decosne,
Andrew Hill,
Metal Thangz,
The Kinks,
Al Stewart,
E-Dancer,
Q65,
Heaven 17,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The American Breed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Aswad,
Henry Cow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Hoover,
Moebius,
Gabor Szabo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angry Samoans,
Tommy Roe,
Gil Scott Heron,
Khruangbin,
Banda Bassotti,
David Bowie,
Visage,
Kerri Chandler,
Intrusion,
Black Bananas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Birthday Party,
The Tremeloes,
The New Christs,
Neu!,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.