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 Saudi Arabia and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Wings to the techno 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Accadde A,
Ten City,
Animal Collective,
Magma,
EPMD,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jacob Miller,
June of 44,
Roger Hodgson,
X-Ray Spex,
cv313,
John Coltrane,
Boredoms,
Swell Maps,
The Pretty Things,
Masters at Work,
Matthew Halsall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Arcadia,
Cymande,
Joe Finger,
Bill Near,
Lakeside,
Tim Buckley,
These Immortal Souls,
DJ Style,
Trumans Water,
Delta 5,
Harmonia,
B.T. Express,
Rotary Connection,
The Count Five,
The Victims,
La Düsseldorf,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tommy Roe,
Rakim,
X-101,
Pylon,
Amon Düül,
Nas,
Y Pants,
John Cale,
Lou Christie,
Slick Rick,
Arthur Verocai,
Todd Rundgren,
Sun Ra,
Outsiders,
The Offenders,
Spoonie Gee,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Khruangbin,
Unwound,
the Association,
A Certain Ratio,
Alice Coltrane,
Harry Pussy,
Joyce Sims,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.