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 Lithuania and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the funk 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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smoke,
Amon Düül,
Symarip,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rites of Spring,
Isaac Hayes,
Mark Hollis,
Sällskapet,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lower 48,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Johnny Clarke,
Fat Boys,
Livin' Joy,
L. Decosne,
The Real Kids,
Scan 7,
Sarah Menescal,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scratch Acid,
The Dead C,
The Seeds,
The Moleskins,
Bush Tetras,
Ultra Naté,
Marmalade,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Television,
Avey Tare,
Nico,
Ossler,
Neil Young,
Porter Ricks,
The Doors,
Au Pairs,
Juan Atkins,
Oblivians,
The Leaves,
Piero Umiliani,
June of 44,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick May,
Pagans,
Camouflage,
Aswad,
Los Fastidios,
Graham Central Station,
Althea and Donna,
Lakeside,
Mandrill,
Judy Mowatt,
Jawbox,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.