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 Luxembourg and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Martian to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
The Toasters,
Andrew Hill,
Kaleidoscope,
The Seeds,
Malaria!,
Arthur Verocai,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Idris Muhammad,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boredoms,
the Germs,
Bauhaus,
Althea and Donna,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ludus,
The Stooges,
Chrome,
Josef K,
Deadbeat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Swell Maps,
Lee Hazlewood,
Moby Grape,
The Velvet Underground,
Simply Red,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Maurizio,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Inner City,
Magma,
Mandrill,
T.S.O.L.,
Interpol,
Stereo Dub,
Prince Buster,
Liliput,
Kenny Larkin,
Aloha Tigers,
Eli Mardock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Metal Thangz,
Donny Hathaway,
The Trojans,
Susan Cadogan,
Nik Kershaw,
Schoolly D,
Toni Rubio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Can,
DNA,
The New Christs,
The Selecter,
Sarah Menescal,
Theoretical Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sound,
Joensuu 1685,
The Walker Brothers,
The Human League,
The Monks,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.