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 Egypt and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Man Parrish to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Brothers Johnson,
Scion,
Byron Stingily,
Pierre Henry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eden Ahbez,
Lindisfarne,
H. Thieme,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
Arab on Radar,
Dawn Penn,
OOIOO,
Andrew Hill,
The Neon Judgement,
Fluxion,
Sexual Harrassment,
Neil Young,
Tommy Roe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DJ Sneak,
The Modern Lovers,
Crash Course in Science,
Archie Shepp,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pantytec,
Saccharine Trust,
Grandmaster Flash,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ossler,
Agitation Free,
Kurtis Blow,
The Human League,
MDC,
kango's stein massive,
This Heat,
The Durutti Column,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Names,
Alice Coltrane,
X-102,
the Normal,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Symarip,
The Misunderstood,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Audionom,
Johnny Clarke,
Lyres,
Drive Like Jehu,
Terry Callier,
Lungfish,
June Days,
Boredoms,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Grass Roots,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.