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 Mexico and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blues Magoos to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Harmonia,
The Dave Clark Five,
Make Up,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brick,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Radiohead,
Robert Hood,
The Evens,
The Blues Magoos,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Shoche,
Q and Not U,
Easy Going,
Section 25,
A Certain Ratio,
Model 500,
Soul Sonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Khruangbin,
Maurizio,
Lebanon Hanover,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Reuben Wilson,
Carl Craig,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tim Buckley,
Scion,
Saccharine Trust,
Piero Umiliani,
Supertramp,
Wolf Eyes,
Leonard Cohen,
The Gun Club,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Byrd,
Lyres,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rapeman,
T. Rex,
Minny Pops,
Dual Sessions,
Rakim,
Japan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Warren Ellis,
Zapp,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jawbox,
The Busters,
Archie Shepp,
Outsiders,
Mandrill,
Trumans Water,
Hot Snakes,
Sam Rivers,
David Axelrod,
Marshall Jefferson,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.