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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Max Romeo 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Pere Ubu,
This Heat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sight & Sound,
Lightning Bolt,
Arcadia,
Grauzone,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wolf Eyes,
Eddi Front,
Bobby Sherman,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lee Hazlewood,
Faust,
Flipper,
Jesper Dahlback,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Moleskins,
Sparks,
Icehouse,
Tears for Fears,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
New York Dolls,
Half Japanese,
Mark Hollis,
The Kinks,
Electric Prunes,
Man Parrish,
Bill Near,
Kas Product,
Nick Fraelich,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Gun Club,
Scientists,
Glenn Branca,
Idris Muhammad,
Public Enemy,
Robert Hood,
Harry Pussy,
The Monks,
Grey Daturas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lower 48,
Aaron Thompson,
World's Most,
Flamin' Groovies,
Buzzcocks,
The Gladiators,
Byron Stingily,
Deakin,
Eli Mardock,
June Days,
Hasil Adkins,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cameo,
Wire,
Judy Mowatt,
Theoretical Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.