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 Zimbabwe and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dave Gahan to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Brass Construction,
The Index,
Cymande,
Supertramp,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Motions,
Jacques Brel,
the Germs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lungfish,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kaleidoscope,
Fat Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Bizarre Inc.,
Moby Grape,
OOIOO,
Susan Cadogan,
The Offenders,
Tres Demented,
Mission of Burma,
The Beau Brummels,
Chrome,
Half Japanese,
Popol Vuh,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
T. Rex,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cowsills,
Scion,
Cameo,
New York Dolls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fall,
The Angels of Light,
John Cale,
Terry Callier,
Babytalk,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oblivians,
Grey Daturas,
Livin' Joy,
10cc,
The Evens,
Index,
Lee Hazlewood,
Saccharine Trust,
Minny Pops,
The United States of America,
Silicon Teens,
Bob Dylan,
Eli Mardock,
Eddi Front,
Cal Tjader,
Interpol,
Ronnie Foster,
Skaos,
Essential Logic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.