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 Paraguay and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pagans to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Young Marble Giants,
Terry Callier,
Alphaville,
Bush Tetras,
Bobby Byrd,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Matthew Bourne,
Mark Hollis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Parry Music,
The Last Poets,
The Fortunes,
Kerri Chandler,
Sonny Sharrock,
Excepter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Glenn Branca,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mo-Dettes,
These Immortal Souls,
Magazine,
kango's stein massive,
Electric Prunes,
Sister Nancy,
Tears for Fears,
Kerrie Biddell,
F. McDonald,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dark Day,
Pussy Galore,
U.S. Maple,
Marshall Jefferson,
Hasil Adkins,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Remains,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deakin,
The Names,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brick,
Guru Guru,
Faust,
The Buckinghams,
Skarface,
The Slackers,
Black Bananas,
China Crisis,
Dawn Penn,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
The Pretty Things,
Bang On A Can,
Matthew Halsall,
Gang Green,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Deadbeat,
Nick Fraelich,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Knickerbockers,
Lalann,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.