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 Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the rap 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All the Germs 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 grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Fela Kuti,
Lebanon Hanover,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Absolute Body Control,
Roxette,
Con Funk Shun,
Schoolly D,
Gang Starr,
DJ Style,
The Monks,
Quadrant,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tears for Fears,
ABBA,
DJ Sneak,
Andrew Hill,
Quantec,
Das Ding,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
One Last Wish,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fuzztones,
Glambeats Corp.,
In Retrospect,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Monochrome Set,
Motorama,
Outsiders,
Barbara Tucker,
Warsaw,
Reagan Youth,
Kerri Chandler,
Peter and Kerry,
Gong,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fugazi,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Moebius,
New York Dolls,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Scratch Acid,
The Blues Magoos,
Girls At Our Best!,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Japan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Flipper,
Sonic Youth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Parry Music,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mars,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.