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 Macedonia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Soft Cell to the jazz 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
The Monochrome Set,
Rotary Connection,
Lucky Dragons,
Mary Jane Girls,
JFA,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Sonics,
Chris Corsano,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Foxx,
PIL,
The Gladiators,
Dead Boys,
The Last Poets,
The Index,
The Motions,
Livin' Joy,
June Days,
The Zeros,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lou Reed,
Hardrive,
KRS-One,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Radio Birdman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ten City,
DJ Sneak,
Glenn Branca,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ultra Naté,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Crash Course in Science,
Sugar Minott,
The Mummies,
Symarip,
Cameo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sixth Finger,
Trumans Water,
Deepchord,
Funkadelic,
Moebius,
Flipper,
Theoretical Girls,
Neil Young,
The Trojans,
L. Decosne,
Jacques Brel,
Little Man,
Gastr Del Sol,
Byron Stingily,
Siglo XX,
Brothers Johnson,
Lungfish,
the Bar-Kays,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.