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 Grenada and from Edmonton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Rites of Spring,
Black Flag,
Eddi Front,
Brothers Johnson,
Average White Band,
Nils Olav,
U.S. Maple,
June Days,
Flipper,
The Pretty Things,
June of 44,
Matthew Bourne,
Darondo,
Morten Harket,
The Zeros,
Bob Dylan,
H. Thieme,
Ronnie Foster,
The Gories,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sugar Minott,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gabor Szabo,
Agent Orange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aural Exciters,
Chris & Cosey,
The Invisible,
Au Pairs,
Donald Byrd,
Symarip,
Black Pus,
Bill Wells,
Boogie Down Productions,
Aaron Thompson,
Nik Kershaw,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Remains,
Cymande,
Malaria!,
Shuggie Otis,
Intrusion,
The Buckinghams,
Slave,
Blancmange,
Y Pants,
Soulsonic Force,
Ossler,
Slick Rick,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Heaven 17,
Spandau Ballet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Godley & Creme,
New Age Steppers,
Donny Hathaway,
a-ha,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.