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 Liberia and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Boz Scaggs 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Nirvana,
Mission of Burma,
Todd Terry,
The American Breed,
The Index,
Donald Byrd,
Reagan Youth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Litter,
DJ Style,
Marcia Griffiths,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Franke,
Judy Mowatt,
Patti Smith,
L. Decosne,
Faraquet,
Warren Ellis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Barracudas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brass Construction,
The Raincoats,
Chris & Cosey,
Schoolly D,
Interpol,
Lalann,
Sun City Girls,
Depeche Mode,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul II Soul,
Freddie Wadling,
The Pretty Things,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Grey Daturas,
The Smoke,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Iggy Pop,
Nik Kershaw,
The Skatalites,
Josef K,
The Cramps,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Robert Görl,
The Count Five,
Aural Exciters,
Fad Gadget,
Crash Course in Science,
Ludus,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dual Sessions,
The Dead C,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Zeros,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
Organ,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.