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 Costa Rica and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
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 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 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Dave Gahan,
Porter Ricks,
ABBA,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Khruangbin,
Average White Band,
Colin Newman,
Monks,
Rufus Thomas,
Simply Red,
The Birthday Party,
John Holt,
The Smoke,
Shuggie Otis,
Arthur Verocai,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pere Ubu,
Motorama,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lakeside,
Make Up,
Lalo Schifrin,
Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
The Vogues,
Tears for Fears,
AZ,
Delta 5,
Black Flag,
Gong,
Sun Ra,
Metal Thangz,
Ossler,
The Sound,
Ultra Naté,
Hashim,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Raincoats,
Gang Green,
Glenn Branca,
The Buckinghams,
New York Dolls,
Hasil Adkins,
Deepchord,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hardrive,
Mantronix,
Japan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Camberwell Now,
Radio Birdman,
Amon Düül,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Modern Lovers,
Don Cherry,
Nirvana,
Guru Guru,
Inner City,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scientists,
Organ,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.