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 Chile and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Remains to the techno 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Radiohead,
Wasted Youth,
Heaven 17,
The Monochrome Set,
Bootsy Collins,
Ossler,
Boz Scaggs,
Aswad,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chris Corsano,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soft Cell,
Eddi Front,
Terrestrial Tones,
Smog,
Lindisfarne,
Janne Schatter,
D'Angelo,
Dawn Penn,
Aloha Tigers,
Can,
The Flesh Eaters,
Althea and Donna,
Audionom,
Arthur Verocai,
The Pretty Things,
Faust,
The Gladiators,
X-102,
Panda Bear,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marine Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Drexciya,
Dual Sessions,
Underground Resistance,
Cal Tjader,
The Modern Lovers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cheater Slicks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Neu!,
Moebius,
Model 500,
Angry Samoans,
the Association,
Sunsets and Hearts,
JFA,
F. McDonald,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Sheep,
Magma,
Japan,
The Names,
The Cramps,
Arab on Radar,
Deadbeat,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.