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 Colombia and from Milan.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 This Heat to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
The Evens,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wolf Eyes,
Wally Richardson,
Rod Modell,
Roxy Music,
Magazine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Carl Craig,
John Holt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
June of 44,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Remains,
Nico,
Suicide,
Albert Ayler,
Nirvana,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Porter Ricks,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris & Cosey,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Pretty Things,
X-102,
The Vogues,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The United States of America,
Erykah Badu,
Symarip,
Mark Hollis,
Janne Schatter,
The Fortunes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobby Womack,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sandy B,
The Moody Blues,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell,
Das Ding,
Depeche Mode,
the Normal,
Section 25,
The American Breed,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Vladislav Delay,
the Germs,
Bill Wells,
Eric B and Rakim,
Judy Mowatt,
Eli Mardock,
Barbara Tucker,
Echospace,
Gastr Del Sol,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.