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 Sudan and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Massinfluence to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Morten Harket,
The Beau Brummels,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bang On A Can,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Con Funk Shun,
Moebius,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Au Pairs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ossler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jeff Lynne,
Technova,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cecil Taylor,
The Searchers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool Moe Dee,
JFA,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Standells,
The Walker Brothers,
Sex Pistols,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rites of Spring,
Howard Jones,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
AZ,
The Blackbyrds,
Sam Rivers,
Ice-T,
Erykah Badu,
The Vogues,
Rosa Yemen,
Gichy Dan,
The Happenings,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Liliput,
Magazine,
The Divine Comedy,
Amon Düül II,
John Coltrane,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Human League,
Pet Shop Boys,
FM Einheit,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Patti Smith,
X-Ray Spex,
Pussy Galore,
Robert Görl,
Mission of Burma,
Jeff Mills,
Avey Tare,
Yusef Lateef,
Lalo Schifrin,
Letta Mbulu,
Amazonics,
Intrusion,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.