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 Luxembourg and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare 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 Connie Case to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Japan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Niagra,
Eric Copeland,
Gang Starr,
Barbara Tucker,
Q65,
Ornette Coleman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eli Mardock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Holt,
The American Breed,
Franke,
Kool Moe Dee,
Todd Terry,
Archie Shepp,
Bang On A Can,
Thompson Twins,
Gichy Dan,
Angry Samoans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ossler,
Scrapy,
Young Marble Giants,
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Yusef Lateef,
Bobby Byrd,
Sight & Sound,
Funkadelic,
The Slits,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Siglo XX,
Johnny Osbourne,
David McCallum,
the Normal,
The Tremeloes,
Rapeman,
Grey Daturas,
Connie Case,
The Durutti Column,
Nas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Move,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Goldenarms,
Television Personalities,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
Scratch Acid,
Average White Band,
Crime,
Frankie Knuckles,
John Foxx,
June Days,
The Walker Brothers,
Scott Walker,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.