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 Venezuela and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Negative Approach to the jazz 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Bootsy Collins,
Bluetip,
The Grass Roots,
Lou Reed,
Ponytail,
Funky Four + One,
Roger Hodgson,
Rhythm & Sound,
Grauzone,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
June Days,
The Names,
Barbara Tucker,
The Associates,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Yellowson,
DNA,
The Seeds,
The Skatalites,
The Residents,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Divine Comedy,
The Slits,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ornette Coleman,
Howard Jones,
Marcia Griffiths,
Avey Tare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Swans,
Con Funk Shun,
Minnie Riperton,
Davy DMX,
Silicon Teens,
The Trojans,
Blake Baxter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Albert Ayler,
Iggy Pop,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kerrie Biddell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Joensuu 1685,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Camouflage,
Q and Not U,
Warsaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Metal Thangz,
Interpol,
Absolute Body Control,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fad Gadget,
The Moody Blues,
Lungfish,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dead Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.