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 India and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Charles Mingus to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
Interpol,
Minnie Riperton,
Deadbeat,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Human League,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Wyatt,
These Immortal Souls,
Country Teasers,
Pagans,
Sex Pistols,
Talk Talk,
Eurythmics,
Maurizio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soul II Soul,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Neil Young,
Silicon Teens,
Warren Ellis,
Scott Walker,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Depeche Mode,
The Stooges,
Fluxion,
The Mojo Men,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Camouflage,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rotary Connection,
The Angels of Light,
Radio Birdman,
Scrapy,
Masters at Work,
Black Moon,
Tears for Fears,
Stockholm Monsters,
David Bowie,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Patti Smith,
LL Cool J,
Fad Gadget,
The Walker Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Oblivians,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bootsy Collins,
Swell Maps,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scientists,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Schoolly D,
X-102,
Jacob Miller,
Cameo,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Electric Prunes,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.