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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 James White and The Blacks to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Circle Jerks,
Kaleidoscope,
Dennis Brown,
The Slackers,
Kas Product,
Swell Maps,
The Victims,
Pere Ubu,
Surgeon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cymande,
Roxy Music,
Ronan,
Wasted Youth,
Gabor Szabo,
Ronnie Foster,
Darondo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun City Girls,
The Slits,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rotary Connection,
The Toasters,
Piero Umiliani,
Sonic Youth,
Josef K,
Bobby Sherman,
Monks,
Con Funk Shun,
Agent Orange,
The J.B.'s,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lindisfarne,
Minutemen,
Tim Buckley,
Iggy Pop,
Mission of Burma,
Roger Hodgson,
DNA,
the Sonics,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Pus,
Eric Dolphy,
Kenny Larkin,
Fad Gadget,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Panda Bear,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Christie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Byron Stingily,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jimmy McGriff,
Boredoms,
U.S. Maple,
The Flesh Eaters,
Warsaw,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.