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 Marshall Islands and from Portland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 Glenn Branca to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Yaz,
The Doors,
Yazoo,
Bad Manners,
Reuben Wilson,
Robert Görl,
The United States of America,
Black Bananas,
Sun Ra,
Suburban Knight,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Stooges,
Johnny Clarke,
The Raincoats,
Malaria!,
Rufus Thomas,
The Mojo Men,
Cecil Taylor,
DNA,
The Motions,
Kerri Chandler,
Anakelly,
Vladislav Delay,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tears for Fears,
Second Layer,
X-Ray Spex,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dave Gahan,
Severed Heads,
Howard Jones,
Shoche,
Ossler,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scott Walker,
Zapp,
Toni Rubio,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ponytail,
FM Einheit,
Oblivians,
Lungfish,
Scion,
48th St. Collective,
The Invisible,
Black Moon,
The Wake,
Crash Course in Science,
Crispy Ambulance,
Maleditus Sound,
The Real Kids,
Siglo XX,
Tomorrow,
Television,
The Busters,
Fat Boys,
Connie Case,
Mad Mike,
H. Thieme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.