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 Monaco and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the sitar 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 T.S.O.L. to the techno 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Mission of Burma,
The Smoke,
Fear,
The Velvet Underground,
B.T. Express,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pet Shop Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rites of Spring,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Audionom,
The Martian,
Mandrill,
Moby Grape,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Womack,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Janne Schatter,
Marvin Gaye,
Accadde A,
Barrington Levy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Derrick May,
Mad Mike,
Lightning Bolt,
Subhumans,
In Retrospect,
Goldenarms,
Lee Hazlewood,
Max Romeo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Evens,
Angry Samoans,
Section 25,
Steve Hackett,
The Victims,
Pole,
Los Fastidios,
Ken Boothe,
Eric Copeland,
Grey Daturas,
Albert Ayler,
China Crisis,
Junior Murvin,
Shuggie Otis,
Dark Day,
Robert Wyatt,
Television,
DNA,
Maleditus Sound,
The Fall,
Hot Snakes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Susan Cadogan,
Index,
The Smiths,
Duran Duran,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.