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 Ethiopia and from Philadelphia.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar 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 Crash Course in Science to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Erasure,
Buzzcocks,
Barbara Tucker,
The Dirtbombs,
The Evens,
Babytalk,
The Saints,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Smooth,
Quantec,
Accadde A,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bobby Byrd,
David Axelrod,
Soft Machine,
Yaz,
Scratch Acid,
Eric Copeland,
Soul Sonic Force,
Aloha Tigers,
Au Pairs,
Darondo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Görl,
Funky Four + One,
Wasted Youth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Siglo XX,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Music Machine,
Sandy B,
Albert Ayler,
Wolf Eyes,
Echospace,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultravox,
Electric Light Orchestra,
JFA,
One Last Wish,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boredoms,
Rosa Yemen,
Crooked Eye,
The Fortunes,
Jawbox,
Black Moon,
L. Decosne,
10cc,
The Names,
Simply Red,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
The Slackers,
Technova,
The Kinks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.