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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 snare 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 Harpers Bizarre to the grime 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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Eurythmics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Funky Four + One,
Harry Pussy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Beau Brummels,
The Last Poets,
Gabor Szabo,
Dawn Penn,
The New Christs,
A Certain Ratio,
World's Most,
Stereo Dub,
The Neon Judgement,
Dead Boys,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nick Fraelich,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
ABBA,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Anthony Braxton,
Suburban Knight,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New Order,
Johnny Clarke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tears for Fears,
Rekid,
Boz Scaggs,
Jacob Miller,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dark Day,
Deadbeat,
Fear,
Eric B and Rakim,
Duran Duran,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Association,
The Music Machine,
DJ Sneak,
Hot Snakes,
Circle Jerks,
Jandek,
Peter & Gordon,
Black Pus,
Piero Umiliani,
Boredoms,
Marvin Gaye,
Darondo,
Gang Starr,
a-ha,
Basic Channel,
Toni Rubio,
The Black Dice,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Organ,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.