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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
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 spring reverb 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 T.S.O.L. to the funk 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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Golliwogs,
The American Breed,
Ornette Coleman,
Toni Rubio,
Zapp,
The Last Poets,
Deepchord,
Can,
Anakelly,
June Days,
Flamin' Groovies,
Banda Bassotti,
DJ Style,
Black Bananas,
Hardrive,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Searchers,
Interpol,
Barrington Levy,
Scrapy,
Alice Coltrane,
Ken Boothe,
Pulsallama,
Joensuu 1685,
Sparks,
The Monks,
Marc Almond,
Tim Buckley,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kaleidoscope,
Pylon,
Minnie Riperton,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Techniques,
Eric Dolphy,
Andrew Hill,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Swans,
John Holt,
Roger Hodgson,
Janne Schatter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxy Music,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Mills,
the Soft Cell,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Sherman,
MDC,
Glenn Branca,
Al Stewart,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Michelle Simonal,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Matthew Halsall,
Terry Callier,
the Germs,
Tommy Roe,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.