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 Burkina and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare 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 Germs to the jazz 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Unwound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Wells,
the Sonics,
World's Most,
Bootsy Collins,
The Names,
Popol Vuh,
Terry Callier,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Vogues,
Joensuu 1685,
Lalo Schifrin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Real Kids,
Oneida,
Altered Images,
Bad Manners,
Radiohead,
Laurel Aitken,
John Holt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
Make Up,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Dave Gahan,
Radio Birdman,
Bang On A Can,
Khruangbin,
Massinfluence,
Leonard Cohen,
Smog,
The Misunderstood,
Althea and Donna,
The Kinks,
Dorothy Ashby,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Unrelated Segments,
Desert Stars,
Trumans Water,
Minor Threat,
Aaron Thompson,
Erasure,
Au Pairs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mo-Dettes,
Jacques Brel,
Stiv Bators,
The Move,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hoover,
The American Breed,
Matthew Halsall,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pagans,
the Swans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Colin Newman,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.