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 Mauritania and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Crispian St. Peters to the rock 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Hot Snakes,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cowsills,
The Sonics,
The Remains,
Patti Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tres Demented,
Bobby Byrd,
Easy Going,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Royal Trux,
Swans,
Dead Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Grass Roots,
Throbbing Gristle,
Morten Harket,
Eli Mardock,
The Gap Band,
Warsaw,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Womack,
The Last Poets,
Bill Wells,
Pylon,
Quando Quango,
Roger Hodgson,
Magma,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sugar Minott,
Pierre Henry,
Crime,
The Divine Comedy,
Sister Nancy,
Bauhaus,
Public Image Ltd.,
Parry Music,
The Fugs,
Mars,
Television,
Eric Dolphy,
Wolf Eyes,
DJ Style,
Harry Pussy,
Glenn Branca,
Oneida,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
T. Rex,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mo-Dettes,
The Offenders,
Intrusion,
The Fuzztones,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.