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 Guatemala 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 The Happenings to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
The Golliwogs,
MDC,
Scion,
Quantec,
John Cale,
The Offenders,
Easy Going,
Jacques Brel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Sheep,
Mars,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Althea and Donna,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Audionom,
Beasts of Bourbon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hardrive,
Roxy Music,
T. Rex,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dave Gahan,
Marvin Gaye,
Shoche,
Qualms,
Idris Muhammad,
Ossler,
The Pretty Things,
Colin Newman,
Young Marble Giants,
DNA,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Toasters,
The Cramps,
10cc,
Jerry's Kids,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lindisfarne,
Main Source,
The American Breed,
Connie Case,
Bobby Sherman,
The Beau Brummels,
Agitation Free,
Sex Pistols,
Brothers Johnson,
Bootsy Collins,
Ken Boothe,
Faust,
Scott Walker,
The Human League,
Eric Copeland,
The Fugs,
Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685.
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.