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 Thailand and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Nico to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Tom Boy,
Jeff Mills,
Quadrant,
The Dead C,
Severed Heads,
The Walker Brothers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jeru the Damaja,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Gun Club,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aswad,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nik Kershaw,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bootsy Collins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Terrestrial Tones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Soft Cell,
Sun Ra,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-Ray Spex,
Symarip,
Simply Red,
Scion,
Nirvana,
Ten City,
Boz Scaggs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Hasil Adkins,
Dead Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rakim,
The Grass Roots,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The United States of America,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Underground Resistance,
Aural Exciters,
Au Pairs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blues Magoos,
Bill Wells,
Sam Rivers,
Index,
Ponytail,
Crooked Eye,
Con Funk Shun,
Reuben Wilson,
Saccharine Trust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.