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 Paraguay and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the disco 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Sonics,
The Blues Magoos,
Khruangbin,
Kerrie Biddell,
Simply Red,
Glenn Branca,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Todd Terry,
Colin Newman,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
Prince Buster,
Connie Case,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hardrive,
Oblivians,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
10cc,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Stereo Dub,
World's Most,
Andrew Hill,
Rod Modell,
Lou Reed,
The Skatalites,
Qualms,
Liliput,
Young Marble Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
Echospace,
Outsiders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Chris & Cosey,
Newcleus,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Normal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pagans,
Juan Atkins,
Section 25,
Icehouse,
Skarface,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Second Layer,
48th St. Collective,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brass Construction,
Hashim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ornette Coleman,
Marmalade,
Con Funk Shun,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fela Kuti,
Sunsets and Hearts,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.