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 Finland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar 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 Angels of Light to the crunk 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
The Gap Band,
Harry Pussy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Popol Vuh,
Pantaleimon,
T.S.O.L.,
John Holt,
Sex Pistols,
The Buckinghams,
The Selecter,
Glenn Branca,
Bauhaus,
John Cale,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jawbox,
Howard Jones,
Silicon Teens,
Arab on Radar,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hardrive,
Bill Wells,
Swell Maps,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mojo Men,
The Angels of Light,
Marmalade,
Pole,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roger Hodgson,
The Durutti Column,
Shoche,
New York Dolls,
Gang of Four,
Cybotron,
The Martian,
Nirvana,
Hot Snakes,
Average White Band,
Bang On A Can,
Make Up,
Malaria!,
Idris Muhammad,
The Blues Magoos,
Flash Fearless,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fluxion,
Flipper,
The Fortunes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lalann,
Stockholm Monsters,
Reuben Wilson,
Half Japanese,
Boredoms,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.