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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mummies to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Fugazi,
Aural Exciters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Masters at Work,
Marvin Gaye,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tom Boy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Andrew Hill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Bootsy Collins,
Stetsasonic,
Black Bananas,
Hot Snakes,
Sällskapet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Pretty Things,
Ronan,
Deadbeat,
Flamin' Groovies,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Shuggie Otis,
Motorama,
Jandek,
The Happenings,
Dual Sessions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Offenders,
Morten Harket,
Scan 7,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Easy Going,
Stereo Dub,
The Velvet Underground,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Music Machine,
Al Stewart,
Chrome,
Marine Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crash Course in Science,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Seeds,
Harmonia,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sam Rivers,
Trumans Water,
X-Ray Spex,
The Mummies,
Scion,
Warsaw,
Jeru the Damaja,
Minor Threat,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.