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 Ghana and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the grime 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Chrome,
Marvin Gaye,
Bobby Byrd,
Ultimate Spinach,
Visage,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Almond,
The Gun Club,
AZ,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Schoolly D,
Interpol,
Laurel Aitken,
Motorama,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gap Band,
Nils Olav,
Jacques Brel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flash Fearless,
The Human League,
Erasure,
Von Mondo,
The Young Rascals,
OOIOO,
Jerry's Kids,
The Black Dice,
Simply Red,
Bauhaus,
the Human League,
Deepchord,
Moebius,
Jeff Mills,
H. Thieme,
The Divine Comedy,
Camberwell Now,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Happenings,
The Gories,
Michelle Simonal,
Yellowson,
Arab on Radar,
The Searchers,
DJ Style,
Ultravox,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donald Byrd,
Black Moon,
Loose Ends,
F. McDonald,
Mr. Review,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Toasters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Banda Bassotti,
Robert Hood,
Dark Day,
Don Cherry,
Dave Gahan,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.