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 Iraq and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cheater Slicks to the grime 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Cecil Taylor,
Hoover,
Gang Starr,
Lyres,
Sonic Youth,
E-Dancer,
Tom Boy,
The Evens,
Funkadelic,
These Immortal Souls,
Sex Pistols,
Judy Mowatt,
Crash Course in Science,
Warsaw,
Isaac Hayes,
The Moleskins,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun City Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quantec,
Can,
Sam Rivers,
Panda Bear,
Terry Callier,
This Heat,
Connie Case,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pere Ubu,
Bronski Beat,
The Mojo Men,
FM Einheit,
Ponytail,
the Germs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gang Gang Dance,
Howard Jones,
Das Ding,
H. Thieme,
Mantronix,
Rites of Spring,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Young Rascals,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Boz Scaggs,
Leonard Cohen,
Jandek,
Kayak,
Half Japanese,
Adolescents,
Bad Manners,
The Stooges,
Siglo XX,
Mission of Burma,
Donny Hathaway,
The Seeds,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minutemen,
Scientists,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.