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 Montenegro and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 David Bowie 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee 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?
Index,
Harry Pussy,
Nik Kershaw,
X-101,
K-Klass,
DJ Style,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Bar-Kays,
The Sonics,
Japan,
Pantytec,
Q65,
Aural Exciters,
Lakeside,
The Kinks,
Arthur Verocai,
Traffic Nightmare,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
EPMD,
Newcleus,
Youth Brigade,
Alice Coltrane,
Hot Snakes,
Kool Moe Dee,
PIL,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tears for Fears,
Black Pus,
Make Up,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Quantec,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Excepter,
Rapeman,
Joey Negro,
Black Flag,
Barry Ungar,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Remains,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terry Callier,
Amon Düül II,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cecil Taylor,
Thompson Twins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cameo,
Donny Hathaway,
Zero Boys,
Second Layer,
Con Funk Shun,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wasted Youth,
Parry Music,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.