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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
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 Durutti Column to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
48th St. Collective,
The Names,
Nik Kershaw,
Wings,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Certain Ratio,
Stetsasonic,
Harry Pussy,
Vainqueur,
Lalann,
Erykah Badu,
The Smiths,
The Standells,
Minny Pops,
Marmalade,
Donald Byrd,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Hasil Adkins,
Sex Pistols,
Guru Guru,
Ultravox,
Ossler,
MDC,
H. Thieme,
Bad Manners,
Ronnie Foster,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bill Near,
Royal Trux,
Dorothy Ashby,
Television,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Audionom,
The Offenders,
Alison Limerick,
Wolf Eyes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yazoo,
The Residents,
Jeff Lynne,
Surgeon,
Pulsallama,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ronan,
X-101,
Ponytail,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Intrusion,
Malaria!,
KRS-One,
The Electric Prunes,
Boredoms,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cal Tjader,
Aloha Tigers,
Unwound,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.