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 Nigeria 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 arpeggiator 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 Chris & Cosey to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Franke,
ABC,
the Soft Cell,
Section 25,
Camouflage,
Niagra,
Simply Red,
Kerri Chandler,
Can,
Sällskapet,
The Beau Brummels,
Skriet,
Radio Birdman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Vainqueur,
Bizarre Inc.,
Minor Threat,
Ludus,
Zapp,
The Moody Blues,
Scan 7,
Kevin Saunderson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joyce Sims,
Monks,
48th St. Collective,
Dorothy Ashby,
Matthew Halsall,
The New Christs,
Hardrive,
Minutemen,
The Cowsills,
John Cale,
Magazine,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Skaos,
Bootsy Collins,
Jacob Miller,
Ornette Coleman,
Malaria!,
Mark Hollis,
T. Rex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Y Pants,
Nas,
Echospace,
Bad Manners,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Slits,
Shuggie Otis,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eric Copeland,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cameo,
Yazoo,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.