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 Iceland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gladiators to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
The Buckinghams,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mission of Burma,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Guru Guru,
48th St. Collective,
Junior Murvin,
Soft Machine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New Order,
Janne Schatter,
Bluetip,
Sexual Harrassment,
Thompson Twins,
Funkadelic,
Bill Wells,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
David Bowie,
Average White Band,
David McCallum,
The Mojo Men,
The Moleskins,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Human League,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Detroit Cobras,
Albert Ayler,
AZ,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jacob Miller,
The United States of America,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Supertramp,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
R.M.O.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Coltrane,
The Raincoats,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television Personalities,
Scion,
Agitation Free,
Adolescents,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mars,
Nirvana,
DNA,
E-Dancer,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blackbyrds,
Nation of Ulysses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sällskapet,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.