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 New Zealand and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
The United States of America,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ludus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Yaz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Divine Comedy,
Cheater Slicks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barrington Levy,
Michelle Simonal,
Metal Thangz,
The Star Department,
The Last Poets,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
T. Rex,
Magazine,
The Red Krayola,
Dead Boys,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bang On A Can,
Royal Trux,
Talk Talk,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Human League,
Flash Fearless,
Pierre Henry,
Rufus Thomas,
Little Man,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fad Gadget,
Kenny Larkin,
Black Flag,
Suburban Knight,
Scrapy,
Anakelly,
Robert Wyatt,
Excepter,
Crime,
The American Breed,
Jeff Mills,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sugar Minott,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Index,
Neu!,
The Young Rascals,
John Holt,
Hot Snakes,
Ultravox,
X-101,
The Barracudas,
Matthew Bourne,
Dennis Brown,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Selecter,
Animal Collective,
Howard Jones,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
D'Angelo,
Alice Coltrane,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.