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 Antigua and from Milan.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 JFA to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kaleidoscope record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Pagans,
Duran Duran,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radio Birdman,
the Normal,
Henry Cow,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Danielle Patucci,
The Martian,
Alison Limerick,
The Leaves,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Chris & Cosey,
The Young Rascals,
Oneida,
Bob Dylan,
Scion,
Letta Mbulu,
Kas Product,
Big Daddy Kane,
Robert Hood,
Idris Muhammad,
The Knickerbockers,
June Days,
Prince Buster,
The Dirtbombs,
Mo-Dettes,
H. Thieme,
The Slackers,
Gabor Szabo,
Babytalk,
Khruangbin,
Intrusion,
Make Up,
Sonic Youth,
Country Teasers,
Kenny Larkin,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
Junior Murvin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Throbbing Gristle,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bluetip,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kurtis Blow,
Marvin Gaye,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Black Dice,
Piero Umiliani,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Stooges,
Man Eating Sloth,
James White and The Blacks,
Harmonia,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Moleskins,
China Crisis,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
David McCallum,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.