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 Suriname and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Joe & The Fish to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Ludus,
The Smoke,
Nik Kershaw,
Jerry's Kids,
Brass Construction,
Althea and Donna,
Bush Tetras,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Certain Ratio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Zeros,
Deakin,
Bang On A Can,
Henry Cow,
Man Parrish,
June Days,
Icehouse,
Thee Headcoats,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mojo Men,
Byron Stingily,
Hasil Adkins,
Guru Guru,
Skriet,
Vainqueur,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
B.T. Express,
The Red Krayola,
Michelle Simonal,
Josef K,
Drive Like Jehu,
Alison Limerick,
Harry Pussy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Todd Rundgren,
The Gun Club,
FM Einheit,
Faraquet,
Animal Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rakim,
Alice Coltrane,
Monks,
Intrusion,
Funkadelic,
James White and The Blacks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Dawn Penn,
Wally Richardson,
The Techniques,
The Fall,
the Swans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Slick Rick,
Don Cherry,
Eric B and Rakim,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.