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 Saudi Arabia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the crunk 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
The Evens,
New Order,
Young Marble Giants,
Scion,
New Age Steppers,
Roy Ayers,
Skriet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rakim,
Tim Buckley,
Dead Boys,
the Bar-Kays,
Tom Boy,
A Certain Ratio,
Piero Umiliani,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Icehouse,
Man Eating Sloth,
Niagra,
Man Parrish,
DJ Style,
Con Funk Shun,
Junior Murvin,
The Doors,
Wings,
Eli Mardock,
The Electric Prunes,
Goldenarms,
Amazonics,
Moebius,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Reed,
The Pop Group,
Malaria!,
Kayak,
The Slits,
The Star Department,
Ultra Naté,
Magazine,
Television Personalities,
Gang Starr,
Country Teasers,
Laurel Aitken,
Oneida,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ken Boothe,
John Foxx,
Gichy Dan,
Jacques Brel,
Television,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bob Dylan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tres Demented,
Funky Four + One,
Electric Prunes,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.