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 Mauritius and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe 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 The United States of America to the punk 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Easy Going,
Marvin Gaye,
Warsaw,
The Move,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Selecter,
Dead Boys,
David McCallum,
Roger Hodgson,
The Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
The Cowsills,
The American Breed,
Liliput,
The Vogues,
Pantaleimon,
The Mummies,
Public Image Ltd.,
Supertramp,
Camouflage,
Danielle Patucci,
Bush Tetras,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sound Behaviour,
Fat Boys,
Siglo XX,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
Morten Harket,
The Associates,
Malaria!,
The Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Max Romeo,
Surgeon,
Laurel Aitken,
New Age Steppers,
Dave Gahan,
Ituana,
Hardrive,
Gong,
Basic Channel,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lungfish,
Silicon Teens,
The Victims,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Flamin' Groovies,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Womack,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Infiniti,
Tomorrow,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.