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 Kazakhstan and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Freddie Wadling to the funk 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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yaz,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Cowsills,
Heaven 17,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cybotron,
Roy Ayers,
Rosa Yemen,
The Sonics,
Tres Demented,
Flash Fearless,
H. Thieme,
The Remains,
Scratch Acid,
Absolute Body Control,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Pus,
X-102,
Monolake,
The Raincoats,
Section 25,
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Los Fastidios,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Black Dice,
DNA,
EPMD,
Bobby Womack,
Albert Ayler,
Johnny Osbourne,
Magma,
F. McDonald,
Unwound,
Severed Heads,
Crispian St. Peters,
Piero Umiliani,
The Pretty Things,
The Fire Engines,
Bill Near,
48th St. Collective,
Warren Ellis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bang On A Can,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sex Pistols,
Dual Sessions,
Hot Snakes,
The Smoke,
Main Source,
KRS-One,
Yusef Lateef,
The Knickerbockers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Thompson Twins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Victims,
Tubeway Army,
Supertramp,
Brass Construction,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.