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 Barbados and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 linndrum 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 Intrusion to the electroclash 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Jerry's Kids,
Tubeway Army,
Faraquet,
John Cale,
Sonny Sharrock,
Robert Hood,
Joy Division,
Little Man,
The Motions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Aswad,
Alphaville,
Jimmy McGriff,
H. Thieme,
John Holt,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bobby Sherman,
Fatback Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Leonard Cohen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Maurizio,
AZ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Raincoats,
Los Fastidios,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Audionom,
Yazoo,
Al Stewart,
The Fugs,
Roy Ayers,
Fela Kuti,
Hardrive,
Porter Ricks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Morten Harket,
Gang of Four,
June Days,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The J.B.'s,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Juan Atkins,
Au Pairs,
Brothers Johnson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Accadde A,
Yaz,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Patti Smith,
The Kinks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sex Pistols,
Visage,
The Sonics,
Mantronix,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.