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 Togo and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 The Divine Comedy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mantronix,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Graham Central Station,
Livin' Joy,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Depeche Mode,
Deakin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mad Mike,
Juan Atkins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soulsonic Force,
Yellowson,
Funkadelic,
Laurel Aitken,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Seeds,
Cheater Slicks,
E-Dancer,
K-Klass,
Ronnie Foster,
The Names,
Camouflage,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Half Japanese,
Sonic Youth,
Aaron Thompson,
Lungfish,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sparks,
Essential Logic,
Quando Quango,
The Offenders,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxy Music,
Altered Images,
Warren Ellis,
Roy Ayers,
Freddie Wadling,
Yusef Lateef,
Pere Ubu,
Can,
This Heat,
Brand Nubian,
Hasil Adkins,
Popol Vuh,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Litter,
Niagra,
The Neon Judgement,
Neil Young,
The Trojans,
Desert Stars,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.