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 Jordan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Womack to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
The Moleskins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fela Kuti,
Ultimate Spinach,
Godley & Creme,
Ossler,
Prince Buster,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bill Wells,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Blues Magoos,
Wings,
The American Breed,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Grey Daturas,
Japan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Terry,
Ornette Coleman,
Los Fastidios,
Nirvana,
These Immortal Souls,
Reuben Wilson,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mummies,
Mary Jane Girls,
Barrington Levy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bauhaus,
Roxette,
Thee Headcoats,
Crooked Eye,
Gastr Del Sol,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Red Krayola,
Nils Olav,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rosa Yemen,
Althea and Donna,
Khruangbin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lower 48,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
LL Cool J,
Wire,
Yellowson,
The Remains,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Selecter,
Chris Corsano,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
Tomorrow,
Main Source,
Arcadia,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.