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 Jordan and from Bremen.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 Barry Ungar to the grime 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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Procol Harum,
Alton Ellis,
Slave,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sun City Girls,
Scan 7,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blake Baxter,
Newcleus,
Silicon Teens,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hot Snakes,
Shoche,
Quando Quango,
Scientists,
The Slits,
Sandy B,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dave Gahan,
Erasure,
U.S. Maple,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dead Boys,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lungfish,
Colin Newman,
The Gories,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Suburban Knight,
The Motions,
Joe Smooth,
Sam Rivers,
L. Decosne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ituana,
Wings,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott Heron,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fat Boys,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
10cc,
Gang Starr,
Jerry's Kids,
Ponytail,
Barbara Tucker,
Niagra,
Brand Nubian,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Raincoats,
Traffic Nightmare,
Shuggie Otis,
Magma,
Hasil Adkins,
Accadde A,
Agitation Free,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.