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 Palau and from Mexico City.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the punk 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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Reuben Wilson,
The Beau Brummels,
Sam Rivers,
The United States of America,
Joensuu 1685,
Jacques Brel,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Charles Mingus,
Roxy Music,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barry Ungar,
Roger Hodgson,
Ituana,
Judy Mowatt,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Buckinghams,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Terrestrial Tones,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lower 48,
Schoolly D,
the Human League,
Stereo Dub,
Technova,
Cal Tjader,
Massinfluence,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott Heron,
Swell Maps,
Interpol,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Y Pants,
Half Japanese,
Marine Girls,
Camberwell Now,
Babytalk,
New York Dolls,
Susan Cadogan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Thee Headcoats,
James White and The Blacks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dead C,
Sällskapet,
La Düsseldorf,
The Blues Magoos,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Slits,
The Five Americans,
Electric Prunes,
Yazoo,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aswad,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Neil Young,
the Soft Cell,
Porter Ricks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pole,
LL Cool J,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.