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 Sudan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum 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 Pantytec to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Nirvana,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Camberwell Now,
Hasil Adkins,
The Smiths,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Smoke,
Brick,
Kaleidoscope,
Supertramp,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Music Machine,
Gichy Dan,
Cecil Taylor,
The Human League,
The Remains,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang of Four,
Fela Kuti,
The Fuzztones,
Boogie Down Productions,
David Axelrod,
Suburban Knight,
Minor Threat,
Spandau Ballet,
Funky Four + One,
The Searchers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Bar-Kays,
Skriet,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Lydon,
Ludus,
Vladislav Delay,
Rufus Thomas,
Deepchord,
The Young Rascals,
The Knickerbockers,
Japan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Electric Prunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Five Americans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Don Cherry,
Unrelated Segments,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Glambeats Corp.,
Junior Murvin,
Skaos,
Underground Resistance,
James White and The Blacks,
Average White Band,
DJ Style,
The Grass Roots,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Marshall Jefferson,
Swans,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.