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 Somalia and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Rosa Yemen,
The Smiths,
Lee Hazlewood,
MDC,
R.M.O.,
Malaria!,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Busters,
Mission of Burma,
Sandy B,
Mandrill,
Rakim,
Liliput,
Y Pants,
Eric Dolphy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lucky Dragons,
The Toasters,
the Sonics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Bar-Kays,
Gichy Dan,
Roger Hodgson,
Wasted Youth,
the Slits,
Rufus Thomas,
Inner City,
Heaven 17,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Zero Boys,
Silicon Teens,
The Alarm Clocks,
Max Romeo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Names,
T.S.O.L.,
Roxette,
Carl Craig,
Spoonie Gee,
Electric Prunes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Toni Rubio,
Icehouse,
Camouflage,
Youth Brigade,
Arab on Radar,
Jacob Miller,
Don Cherry,
June of 44,
the Germs,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kas Product,
the Association,
Yusef Lateef,
Crooked Eye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.