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 Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 Supertramp to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lou Christie,
The Remains,
Soft Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Spandau Ballet,
Albert Ayler,
Suburban Knight,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wings,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Motorama,
Moss Icon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sex Pistols,
Theoretical Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Clear Light,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
Chrome,
Fat Boys,
Magazine,
Marc Almond,
Todd Rundgren,
KRS-One,
The Alarm Clocks,
The United States of America,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
Crime,
The Litter,
Laurel Aitken,
Crispy Ambulance,
Patti Smith,
Kurtis Blow,
Stereo Dub,
Masters at Work,
Q65,
Bill Wells,
Bobby Hutcherson,
David Axelrod,
Harry Pussy,
Section 25,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Reagan Youth,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moby Grape,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aloha Tigers,
the Sonics,
Graham Central Station,
Reuben Wilson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fad Gadget,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.