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 Peru and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 MC5 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Fire Engines,
Parry Music,
The Standells,
Cybotron,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ohio Players,
Donald Byrd,
New Order,
Icehouse,
David McCallum,
Average White Band,
Sight & Sound,
The Victims,
Pussy Galore,
Popol Vuh,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dave Gahan,
Wally Richardson,
Colin Newman,
Janne Schatter,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Invisible,
The Smiths,
Fad Gadget,
Gang of Four,
Barry Ungar,
Slick Rick,
the Bar-Kays,
Yaz,
The Sonics,
The Gories,
The Names,
Loose Ends,
Swell Maps,
Franke,
Bobby Sherman,
Ken Boothe,
Pet Shop Boys,
Neu!,
Severed Heads,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Five Americans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Little Man,
Wire,
The Music Machine,
H. Thieme,
Moss Icon,
Al Stewart,
Public Enemy,
The Tremeloes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Yellowson,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Busters,
The Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.