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 Estonia and from Johannesburg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 Minutemen to the dance 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
X-101,
Terry Callier,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lou Reed,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultravox,
The Saints,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Cramps,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Franke,
MDC,
Pole,
Harry Pussy,
Robert Wyatt,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lyres,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Terry,
The Residents,
Delta 5,
The Electric Prunes,
Bang On A Can,
Black Moon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Red Krayola,
Funky Four + One,
Gang Green,
Aswad,
Leonard Cohen,
Cybotron,
Cymande,
The Kinks,
Fatback Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Sexual Harrassment,
Delon & Dalcan,
Subhumans,
Audionom,
Johnny Clarke,
Eddi Front,
Darondo,
Don Cherry,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Surgeon,
Derrick Morgan,
Scientists,
Henry Cow,
Marmalade,
Unwound,
The Pretty Things,
The Victims,
Whodini,
The Grass Roots,
JFA,
Buzzcocks,
Moby Grape,
Livin' Joy,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.