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 Seychelles 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Robert Wyatt,
Q and Not U,
Young Marble Giants,
Cameo,
Tears for Fears,
Pussy Galore,
Junior Murvin,
Morten Harket,
Slick Rick,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Schoolly D,
The Gories,
Fugazi,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cheater Slicks,
The Modern Lovers,
Crooked Eye,
Kurtis Blow,
Nils Olav,
a-ha,
Duran Duran,
Siglo XX,
DJ Sneak,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Prince Buster,
The Last Poets,
Suburban Knight,
The Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
Brothers Johnson,
Amon Düül II,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
The Litter,
Gang of Four,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Flag,
UT,
Eve St. Jones,
The Selecter,
Leonard Cohen,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Adolescents,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Intrusion,
The Raincoats,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pierre Henry,
Pulsallama,
Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
The Motions,
Fat Boys,
Brick,
Babytalk,
Boz Scaggs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.