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 Tuvalu and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Soul Sonic Force to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Y Pants,
The Fuzztones,
Ohio Players,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Victims,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gichy Dan,
Electric Prunes,
Crash Course in Science,
Eric B and Rakim,
Erykah Badu,
John Coltrane,
Henry Cow,
Moby Grape,
Whodini,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
John Cale,
Don Cherry,
LL Cool J,
The Remains,
KRS-One,
Chris Corsano,
Darondo,
Marine Girls,
China Crisis,
Eric Copeland,
Jerry's Kids,
Boredoms,
Joey Negro,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Slackers,
Crooked Eye,
The Flesh Eaters,
Make Up,
The Smoke,
The Fall,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nico,
A Certain Ratio,
Aaron Thompson,
Sparks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Green,
Excepter,
Rites of Spring,
PIL,
Pylon,
Thompson Twins,
D'Angelo,
Skarface,
Grey Daturas,
The Divine Comedy,
Rapeman,
K-Klass,
Flamin' Groovies,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.