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 Namibia and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin 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 Erasure to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Busters. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Jerry's Kids,
Supertramp,
Idris Muhammad,
Jawbox,
Ronnie Foster,
The Martian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Funky Four + One,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Reagan Youth,
The Mummies,
B.T. Express,
Porter Ricks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Niagra,
Tim Buckley,
R.M.O.,
Gerry Rafferty,
Procol Harum,
The Saints,
June of 44,
Brand Nubian,
Fluxion,
Goldenarms,
The Skatalites,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric B and Rakim,
Das Ding,
Darondo,
Freddie Wadling,
Drexciya,
Lyres,
Theoretical Girls,
Amon Düül II,
Los Fastidios,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eve St. Jones,
Camberwell Now,
Eric Dolphy,
Masters at Work,
Harmonia,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Chris Corsano,
Duran Duran,
Graham Central Station,
Sound Behaviour,
Grey Daturas,
Letta Mbulu,
The Index,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Khruangbin,
Yusef Lateef,
Tomorrow,
The Slits,
Pere Ubu,
Crispian St. Peters,
Circle Jerks,
The Blackbyrds,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.