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 Iran and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 DNA to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Gong,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Modern Lovers,
Glenn Branca,
Amon Düül II,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marc Almond,
Simply Red,
Drive Like Jehu,
Buzzcocks,
Pere Ubu,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Popol Vuh,
Nirvana,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Tremeloes,
EPMD,
Ken Boothe,
Cal Tjader,
Skriet,
Johnny Clarke,
Unwound,
Gabor Szabo,
Drexciya,
The Vogues,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ronan,
Michelle Simonal,
Spoonie Gee,
the Germs,
Anthony Braxton,
One Last Wish,
Technova,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maleditus Sound,
X-102,
The Fortunes,
Sex Pistols,
Roger Hodgson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Happenings,
Yellowson,
Wings,
Judy Mowatt,
Brass Construction,
Cecil Taylor,
Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Metal Thangz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Average White Band,
The Star Department,
The J.B.'s,
Silicon Teens,
Q and Not U,
La Düsseldorf,
John Cale,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.