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 Liechtenstein and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Popol Vuh to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Grey Daturas,
John Coltrane,
The Divine Comedy,
Andrew Hill,
Index,
Bang On A Can,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Sound,
Qualms,
The Gun Club,
Robert Hood,
Rekid,
The Evens,
Ultimate Spinach,
Arab on Radar,
Inner City,
The Beau Brummels,
Matthew Bourne,
Ohio Players,
Jawbox,
Dorothy Ashby,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Gladiators,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Freddie Wadling,
Newcleus,
Desert Stars,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stereo Dub,
Junior Murvin,
The Happenings,
Sex Pistols,
Boredoms,
Soft Cell,
Morten Harket,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Dawn Penn,
Reuben Wilson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rapeman,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
The J.B.'s,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aaron Thompson,
Panda Bear,
Yazoo,
Sun City Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joe Smooth,
The Kinks,
Livin' Joy,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Moody Blues,
The Dead C,
Eli Mardock,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.