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 Korea North and from Manchester.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 World's Most to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
The Buckinghams,
Jeff Lynne,
Yellowson,
L. Decosne,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Leaves,
Connie Case,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Lydon,
Franke,
Black Bananas,
Hoover,
Tears for Fears,
Aloha Tigers,
JFA,
Eden Ahbez,
Iggy Pop,
Swans,
The Searchers,
The Last Poets,
The Barracudas,
Prince Buster,
Eve St. Jones,
Supertramp,
Model 500,
EPMD,
Jandek,
Minutemen,
The Standells,
Arthur Verocai,
Q and Not U,
Gang Green,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Duran Duran,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
E-Dancer,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gang Starr,
Tres Demented,
Bobby Womack,
Au Pairs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Andrew Hill,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suicide,
Motorama,
Crooked Eye,
Basic Channel,
The United States of America,
Yaz,
Animal Collective,
The Victims,
Goldenarms,
Von Mondo,
The Evens,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
X-Ray Spex,
The Monks,
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Hood,
Dead Boys,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.