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 El Salvador and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Busters to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Parrish,
Soul II Soul,
The Raincoats,
MC5,
Iggy Pop,
The Fugs,
Mad Mike,
Fela Kuti,
Newcleus,
The Motions,
Steve Hackett,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Buzzcocks,
Wings,
Skarface,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
The Real Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nils Olav,
Black Flag,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sister Nancy,
Hot Snakes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Last Poets,
John Coltrane,
The Names,
Nico,
Yazoo,
Das Ding,
Funky Four + One,
Faraquet,
Maleditus Sound,
the Slits,
Anakelly,
Joey Negro,
The Modern Lovers,
The Seeds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pulsallama,
Rosa Yemen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pagans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
R.M.O.,
Little Man,
Malaria!,
Barry Ungar,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.