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 Niger and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the jazz 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Lower 48,
The Golliwogs,
Yazoo,
Blossom Toes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Suburban Knight,
DNA,
KRS-One,
Model 500,
Aswad,
Mission of Burma,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultra Naté,
Bobby Sherman,
The Saints,
Graham Central Station,
EPMD,
Cluster,
Heaven 17,
Audionom,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
K-Klass,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soulsonic Force,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Moon,
Nick Fraelich,
Bootsy Collins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Flipper,
Arthur Verocai,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Quantec,
Pantytec,
Cymande,
Inner City,
the Slits,
Eric B and Rakim,
Saccharine Trust,
Piero Umiliani,
Terry Callier,
The Moleskins,
The Trojans,
Brick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Maleditus Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
Siglo XX,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bush Tetras,
John Cale,
Drive Like Jehu,
Visage,
Eddi Front,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun City Girls,
Nico,
Silicon Teens,
The Dead C,
Kas Product,
Make Up,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.