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 Cuba and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Ultimate Spinach 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Skatalites,
Colin Newman,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ralphi Rosario,
Derrick May,
Kenny Larkin,
Panda Bear,
Organ,
Laurel Aitken,
The American Breed,
Hoover,
Toni Rubio,
Average White Band,
Zapp,
Index,
ABBA,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
X-102,
Minor Threat,
Roxy Music,
Essential Logic,
The Last Poets,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joe Finger,
Marc Almond,
JFA,
Rod Modell,
Eddi Front,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Shoche,
The Cramps,
Camouflage,
Minutemen,
Technova,
the Soft Cell,
Henry Cow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Oneida,
The Dead C,
The Divine Comedy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Swans,
Dawn Penn,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nico,
La Düsseldorf,
Bootsy Collins,
Royal Trux,
Godley & Creme,
Dorothy Ashby,
CMW,
Cal Tjader,
The Mojo Men,
The Misunderstood,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sugar Minott,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.