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 Tonga and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 clarinet 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 U.S. Maple to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Graham Central Station,
Scratch Acid,
Michelle Simonal,
Al Stewart,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
T. Rex,
Joyce Sims,
Gerry Rafferty,
Patti Smith,
Boredoms,
L. Decosne,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Shuggie Otis,
David Axelrod,
Marc Almond,
Moby Grape,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Roxette,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bush Tetras,
The Tremeloes,
The Divine Comedy,
Ice-T,
Aural Exciters,
Prince Buster,
Peter & Gordon,
Panda Bear,
Smog,
Tom Boy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tubeway Army,
Rakim,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sex Pistols,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Simply Red,
June Days,
Sun Ra,
Scott Walker,
Spoonie Gee,
Albert Ayler,
The Buckinghams,
Kaleidoscope,
Metal Thangz,
Maurizio,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare,
Public Enemy,
Dark Day,
Scrapy,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Searchers,
Motorama,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eric B and Rakim,
Malaria!,
Wings,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.