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 St Lucia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Almond to the rap 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dave Clark Five,
Darondo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Panda Bear,
The Dirtbombs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sex Pistols,
The Raincoats,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kool Moe Dee,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Moody Blues,
Subhumans,
Dual Sessions,
Lungfish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Kinks,
Colin Newman,
The Remains,
John Lydon,
Tim Buckley,
Interpol,
Boogie Down Productions,
FM Einheit,
Alton Ellis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Young Marble Giants,
The Angels of Light,
Gerry Rafferty,
Freddie Wadling,
Dawn Penn,
The Five Americans,
Camouflage,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dorothy Ashby,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Faust,
Neil Young,
Rapeman,
Fela Kuti,
Pantaleimon,
Minny Pops,
Sun Ra,
Animal Collective,
Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gregory Isaacs,
Inner City,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
David Bowie,
Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mad Mike,
Livin' Joy,
Jandek,
Half Japanese,
Grey Daturas,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.