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 Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Robert Hood to the grunge 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Faraquet,
Infiniti,
The Beau Brummels,
Eric Copeland,
Wally Richardson,
Lalann,
the Human League,
Circle Jerks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Angry Samoans,
Main Source,
Zapp,
Lightning Bolt,
Magma,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Unwound,
Peter & Gordon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Royal Trux,
Freddie Wadling,
Blake Baxter,
Scrapy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rosa Yemen,
Eric Dolphy,
The Associates,
Lakeside,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tears for Fears,
Oneida,
New Order,
Underground Resistance,
The Litter,
Soul II Soul,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Hasil Adkins,
Easy Going,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stockholm Monsters,
T.S.O.L.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lower 48,
Metal Thangz,
Marmalade,
Bill Wells,
June of 44,
Gang Starr,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fugazi,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bizarre Inc.,
Porter Ricks,
Television,
X-101,
The Toasters,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.