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 Lithuania and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mission of Burma to the disco 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Slits,
The Monks,
Underground Resistance,
Spandau Ballet,
KRS-One,
The Seeds,
The Angels of Light,
Camouflage,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
World's Most,
Kenny Larkin,
Minnie Riperton,
Crooked Eye,
The Busters,
Niagra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neu!,
Soulsonic Force,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dual Sessions,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gerry Rafferty,
Prince Buster,
The Five Americans,
Motorama,
Massinfluence,
Wings,
Second Layer,
Graham Central Station,
The Last Poets,
Desert Stars,
Nico,
Tomorrow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
JFA,
the Association,
Japan,
Barrington Levy,
Tres Demented,
The Smoke,
Albert Ayler,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Magma,
Derrick Morgan,
Arcadia,
Danielle Patucci,
This Heat,
The Trojans,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Knickerbockers,
Average White Band,
Charles Mingus,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Girls At Our Best!,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.