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 Burkina and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dark Day to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sun City Girls,
Mandrill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Germs,
Tres Demented,
Whodini,
Freddie Wadling,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
Swell Maps,
These Immortal Souls,
Unrelated Segments,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jandek,
Sonic Youth,
The Music Machine,
Nik Kershaw,
Tomorrow,
Radiohead,
Judy Mowatt,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Clear Light,
B.T. Express,
Kerri Chandler,
Michelle Simonal,
The Young Rascals,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Radio Birdman,
Roxette,
Arab on Radar,
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
Skarface,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Easy Going,
Wasted Youth,
Isaac Hayes,
Agitation Free,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
New York Dolls,
The Residents,
Procol Harum,
Animal Collective,
Magma,
The Smoke,
Chrome,
the Soft Cell,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Oblivians,
Dual Sessions,
Ponytail,
Ludus,
Pylon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ornette Coleman,
Prince Buster,
Kas Product,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.