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 Kyrgyzstan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Main Source to the grunge 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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Black Moon,
Pole,
Youth Brigade,
Hot Snakes,
Connie Case,
Gichy Dan,
Severed Heads,
Ituana,
Terrestrial Tones,
Easy Going,
Harry Pussy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fall,
The Associates,
Steve Hackett,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Duran Duran,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angry Samoans,
ABC,
Subhumans,
The Fire Engines,
kango's stein massive,
The Vogues,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soft Cell,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Grauzone,
Mars,
Sonic Youth,
John Coltrane,
Franke,
Hasil Adkins,
The Walker Brothers,
Sparks,
The Tremeloes,
Livin' Joy,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pop Group,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tim Buckley,
Parry Music,
Josef K,
China Crisis,
Freddie Wadling,
Thompson Twins,
Prince Buster,
Fela Kuti,
Royal Trux,
Metal Thangz,
Deakin,
Suicide,
Scientists,
The Kinks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pantytec,
In Retrospect,
Fugazi,
Boogie Down Productions,
Interpol,
The Dead C,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.