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 Dominican Republic and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Michelle Simonal. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Outsiders,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
Grey Daturas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ossler,
Sällskapet,
The Skatalites,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ronan,
The Remains,
Mars,
The Five Americans,
Sam Rivers,
Interpol,
Swell Maps,
Echospace,
The Fugs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Talk Talk,
Sister Nancy,
Simply Red,
The Cramps,
Pulsallama,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Avey Tare,
Altered Images,
Eric Dolphy,
Symarip,
Moby Grape,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Star Department,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fat Boys,
Pole,
The New Christs,
Skriet,
The Buckinghams,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Unrelated Segments,
Gastr Del Sol,
Drive Like Jehu,
Anakelly,
Girls At Our Best!,
Andrew Hill,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ponytail,
Sandy B,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Seeds,
Scan 7,
Vladislav Delay,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.