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 Rwanda and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the dance 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Camberwell Now,
The Gories,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Sheep,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tres Demented,
Yaz,
Simply Red,
Howard Jones,
Max Romeo,
Livin' Joy,
The Stooges,
Essential Logic,
Jimmy McGriff,
The American Breed,
Khruangbin,
Tommy Roe,
Sandy B,
Alice Coltrane,
Eddi Front,
Stockholm Monsters,
Talk Talk,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Music Machine,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Can,
Carl Craig,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Sonics,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barry Ungar,
The Red Krayola,
Kurtis Blow,
Public Enemy,
Al Stewart,
Lou Reed,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Soft Cell,
H. Thieme,
Joensuu 1685,
The Walker Brothers,
Moebius,
Eric Dolphy,
Hoover,
Sex Pistols,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Massinfluence,
Minny Pops,
The Velvet Underground,
Joy Division,
Cybotron,
Radiopuhelimet,
Quando Quango,
The Moleskins,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Seeds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.