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 Comoros 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 The Buckinghams to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
PIL,
Bill Near,
Donald Byrd,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lindisfarne,
OOIOO,
Eurythmics,
The Red Krayola,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eric Copeland,
Roxy Music,
Soft Machine,
Cal Tjader,
Danielle Patucci,
ABBA,
Main Source,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Byrd,
Organ,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
Skaos,
The Divine Comedy,
Todd Rundgren,
Mary Jane Girls,
Peter & Gordon,
Black Sheep,
The Music Machine,
Soulsonic Force,
Ronan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Porter Ricks,
Siglo XX,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Electric Prunes,
James White and The Blacks,
Blossom Toes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Infiniti,
Man Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
Ossler,
Eli Mardock,
Kayak,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Groovy Waters,
Roger Hodgson,
Bill Wells,
The Misunderstood,
The Gladiators,
Lower 48,
Vladislav Delay,
Quando Quango,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Holt,
Nirvana,
Ultravox,
Gabor Szabo,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.