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 Sierra Leone and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the rock 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Gerry Rafferty,
MDC,
Unrelated Segments,
Delon & Dalcan,
X-102,
Boz Scaggs,
Au Pairs,
Toni Rubio,
Nirvana,
The Blues Magoos,
Yellowson,
Scratch Acid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Barrington Levy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pere Ubu,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Robert Hood,
Quadrant,
The Fall,
New Order,
Bang On A Can,
Y Pants,
Japan,
Todd Rundgren,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sound Behaviour,
the Association,
Barry Ungar,
Deakin,
Cheater Slicks,
D'Angelo,
The Saints,
Thee Headcoats,
Kurtis Blow,
Alice Coltrane,
Eric Dolphy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Byrd,
Public Enemy,
Visage,
Godley & Creme,
the Sonics,
Tomorrow,
Franke,
The Names,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Walker Brothers,
Donny Hathaway,
Aswad,
World's Most,
Symarip,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rotary Connection,
Peter & Gordon,
Funky Four + One,
Porter Ricks,
The Neon Judgement,
PIL,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.