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 Argentina and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Skriet,
World's Most,
Ice-T,
Kevin Saunderson,
Monolake,
Roger Hodgson,
Swell Maps,
Spoonie Gee,
Marvin Gaye,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
Suicide,
Ultra Naté,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Doors,
Marine Girls,
Albert Ayler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joyce Sims,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ituana,
Pole,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pantytec,
Maleditus Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crime,
Clear Light,
Dave Gahan,
Pet Shop Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Patti Smith,
The Slackers,
Index,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Buckinghams,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
Sight & Sound,
Alice Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
China Crisis,
These Immortal Souls,
Groovy Waters,
Technova,
The Cure,
Vladislav Delay,
Spandau Ballet,
Max Romeo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Niagra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mark Hollis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
UT,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Unwound,
Girls At Our Best!,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.