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 Libya and from Toronto.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Intrusion to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moss Icon,
Joe Smooth,
The Mojo Men,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The American Breed,
Reuben Wilson,
The Smoke,
Public Enemy,
Thompson Twins,
The Fuzztones,
Sound Behaviour,
Suburban Knight,
Blossom Toes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Altered Images,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Normal,
World's Most,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Holt,
Sixth Finger,
Main Source,
Tears for Fears,
The Cowsills,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lakeside,
Roy Ayers,
Aural Exciters,
Alphaville,
The Dirtbombs,
R.M.O.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Cale,
Rotary Connection,
Amon Düül,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roger Hodgson,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Stereo Dub,
Hasil Adkins,
Amon Düül II,
Marine Girls,
Gang Starr,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Gap Band,
DNA,
Avey Tare,
Aaron Thompson,
Essential Logic,
Steve Hackett,
Lower 48,
This Heat,
Magazine,
La Düsseldorf,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.