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 Gambia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Altered Images to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
The Blues Magoos,
Mission of Burma,
Malaria!,
New Age Steppers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sandy B,
The Star Department,
B.T. Express,
The Five Americans,
Laurel Aitken,
The Dead C,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Underground Resistance,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Iggy Pop,
The Names,
Mr. Review,
D'Angelo,
Black Bananas,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pere Ubu,
La Düsseldorf,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Angry Samoans,
Bauhaus,
Sixth Finger,
Swans,
The Index,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Selecter,
June Days,
Thee Headcoats,
Country Teasers,
Gang Green,
T.S.O.L.,
Eli Mardock,
In Retrospect,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun City Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Livin' Joy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Techniques,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Altered Images,
The Litter,
Soulsonic Force,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marvin Gaye,
F. McDonald,
London Community Gospel Choir,
DJ Sneak,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.