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 Guinea-Bissau and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Country Teasers 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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Joe Finger,
Glenn Branca,
Anakelly,
The American Breed,
Make Up,
Marshall Jefferson,
Niagra,
The Smiths,
Rod Modell,
Masters at Work,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
David Axelrod,
Dawn Penn,
The Searchers,
Sight & Sound,
Vainqueur,
Altered Images,
Jacques Brel,
Marvin Gaye,
Aswad,
Marcia Griffiths,
Shuggie Otis,
Barbara Tucker,
Yusef Lateef,
Eric Copeland,
Idris Muhammad,
Matthew Bourne,
Circle Jerks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Last Poets,
Animal Collective,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gichy Dan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Monks,
Bobby Womack,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Music Machine,
Motorama,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rites of Spring,
Aural Exciters,
Soul II Soul,
Prince Buster,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lungfish,
the Swans,
The Evens,
These Immortal Souls,
Juan Atkins,
The Raincoats,
Electric Prunes,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Q65,
Dead Boys,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Charles Mingus,
Radiohead,
The Toasters,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.