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 Uzbekistan and from London.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 kango's stein massive to the funk 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Terry Callier,
B.T. Express,
Dead Boys,
Procol Harum,
Agent Orange,
Magazine,
The Monochrome Set,
Monolake,
Pantytec,
Arab on Radar,
The Grass Roots,
Gabor Szabo,
Nirvana,
Inner City,
Lee Hazlewood,
Trumans Water,
Warsaw,
Avey Tare,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scion,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Beau Brummels,
Reagan Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
Chris Corsano,
Sex Pistols,
Shuggie Otis,
Ituana,
Camouflage,
The American Breed,
Suburban Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
Anakelly,
Gil Scott Heron,
Silicon Teens,
Crooked Eye,
Oneida,
Hot Snakes,
Interpol,
Brand Nubian,
John Coltrane,
Eve St. Jones,
The Divine Comedy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The United States of America,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vladislav Delay,
Youth Brigade,
Jacob Miller,
Black Bananas,
Essential Logic,
Freddie Wadling,
Mantronix,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Iggy Pop,
The Kinks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heaven 17,
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.