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 Sierra Leone and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Angry Samoans to the rock 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
This Heat,
The Monks,
Marvin Gaye,
L. Decosne,
Ronan,
Ornette Coleman,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Suburban Knight,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Idris Muhammad,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Procol Harum,
Clear Light,
Mandrill,
The Tremeloes,
The Durutti Column,
The Wake,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Swell Maps,
Half Japanese,
Can,
Depeche Mode,
Eddi Front,
Public Image Ltd.,
Animal Collective,
Swans,
Rosa Yemen,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harmonia,
Index,
Kenny Larkin,
Freddie Wadling,
Chris & Cosey,
The Cure,
Popol Vuh,
Magazine,
a-ha,
Crime,
Absolute Body Control,
Infiniti,
Banda Bassotti,
DJ Sneak,
Nils Olav,
Quantec,
Qualms,
Make Up,
Gang Gang Dance,
CMW,
Tom Boy,
Bush Tetras,
Funkadelic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dual Sessions,
The Toasters,
Ultra Naté,
Surgeon,
Television Personalities,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.