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 Syria and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Half Japanese to the dance 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June Days record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Standells,
Pole,
The Flesh Eaters,
Morten Harket,
Quadrant,
Terrestrial Tones,
DJ Sneak,
The Gun Club,
Bronski Beat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deadbeat,
Ronan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Althea and Donna,
The Raincoats,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Don Cherry,
The Seeds,
Freddie Wadling,
Brothers Johnson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Massinfluence,
Arab on Radar,
The Wake,
Jawbox,
Whodini,
The Invisible,
Severed Heads,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slick Rick,
Black Pus,
The Saints,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Gories,
Ronnie Foster,
Lee Hazlewood,
Niagra,
Rites of Spring,
Man Parrish,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Isaac Hayes,
Maurizio,
Buzzcocks,
The Remains,
The Leaves,
Maleditus Sound,
Swans,
Gichy Dan,
Urselle,
Pere Ubu,
Brand Nubian,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Busters,
Dawn Penn,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.