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 Turkmenistan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wings to the rock 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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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 Black Dice,
Inner City,
Lindisfarne,
Moebius,
Johnny Osbourne,
Reuben Wilson,
Gang Starr,
Porter Ricks,
The Busters,
Laurel Aitken,
Patti Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rod Modell,
Echospace,
Black Flag,
Television Personalities,
Flipper,
Chris & Cosey,
Simply Red,
Jacques Brel,
Connie Case,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Real Kids,
DNA,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lungfish,
Cybotron,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare,
Quantec,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sexual Harrassment,
Angry Samoans,
The Cramps,
Marine Girls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Idris Muhammad,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bronski Beat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Magazine,
Cecil Taylor,
Gabor Szabo,
Ludus,
Dorothy Ashby,
F. McDonald,
The Associates,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Machine,
Joe Smooth,
Bad Manners,
The Dirtbombs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Aloha Tigers,
The Sonics,
Arcadia,
Thee Headcoats,
Nas,
DJ Style,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.