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 Uganda and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 DJ Sneak to the punk 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
the Bar-Kays,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Walker Brothers,
Stereo Dub,
Joyce Sims,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Associates,
Dark Day,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Q65,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mission of Burma,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pagans,
Brothers Johnson,
The Skatalites,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cymande,
Crooked Eye,
The Residents,
The Cramps,
The Moody Blues,
The Fall,
Fatback Band,
Gang Starr,
AZ,
Rekid,
Alice Coltrane,
Ituana,
Outsiders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hardrive,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mars,
The Gap Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Basic Channel,
DJ Style,
Idris Muhammad,
Cal Tjader,
These Immortal Souls,
Hot Snakes,
Zapp,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang of Four,
Deepchord,
Sam Rivers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mr. Review,
Aloha Tigers,
The Birthday Party,
Circle Jerks,
The J.B.'s,
Dead Boys,
Hashim,
Magma,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.