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 Marshall Islands and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Gichy Dan to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Music Machine,
The Beau Brummels,
Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jacob Miller,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Durutti Column,
Absolute Body Control,
The Star Department,
Yaz,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Tremeloes,
The Residents,
The Slits,
Whodini,
Lalann,
Intrusion,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Raincoats,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sun Ra,
LL Cool J,
Alice Coltrane,
Lou Christie,
Spandau Ballet,
Surgeon,
Grauzone,
the Slits,
Gerry Rafferty,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rufus Thomas,
The Last Poets,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric B and Rakim,
Radio Birdman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Flipper,
Black Flag,
F. McDonald,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rites of Spring,
Hardrive,
Jawbox,
In Retrospect,
DJ Sneak,
Con Funk Shun,
The Blackbyrds,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bizarre Inc.,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
PIL,
The Dead C,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
Vainqueur,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.