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 Malawi and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar 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 The Five Americans to the grunge 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Jimmy McGriff,
Silicon Teens,
The Fugs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Monolake,
Moebius,
Sällskapet,
Soft Cell,
Ultra Naté,
The Dirtbombs,
Deakin,
The Blackbyrds,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Monks,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lakeside,
Wings,
Wolf Eyes,
X-101,
Heaven 17,
Wire,
Crash Course in Science,
Average White Band,
Amon Düül II,
The Stooges,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gun Club,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blossom Toes,
Skarface,
Y Pants,
Pantaleimon,
Brass Construction,
Bill Near,
Newcleus,
The Velvet Underground,
Bronski Beat,
Outsiders,
Bob Dylan,
The Busters,
Grauzone,
The Red Krayola,
Ludus,
Roxette,
Mo-Dettes,
Jerry's Kids,
Joe Finger,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kerri Chandler,
Sexual Harrassment,
Babytalk,
Organ,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Carl Craig,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Seeds,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.