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 Mauritania and from Glasgow.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin 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 Hot Snakes to the funk 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Zapp,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yaz,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Frankie Knuckles,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispian St. Peters,
X-102,
KRS-One,
Reagan Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Motorama,
Faraquet,
Soft Cell,
The Slits,
Camberwell Now,
Swell Maps,
Erykah Badu,
The Martian,
Audionom,
Liliput,
Fatback Band,
Aural Exciters,
Ituana,
Blancmange,
Black Sheep,
The Names,
James White and The Blacks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
10cc,
Clear Light,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Harry Pussy,
The J.B.'s,
Lindisfarne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sight & Sound,
Archie Shepp,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Mojo Men,
Royal Trux,
Jeff Mills,
Mo-Dettes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grauzone,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Bananas,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
E-Dancer,
Mr. Review,
Tropical Tobacco,
Whodini,
R.M.O.,
The Neon Judgement,
Fad Gadget,
Magazine,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.