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 Laos and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
Los Fastidios,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brand Nubian,
Kurtis Blow,
EPMD,
The Invisible,
Quadrant,
Tomorrow,
Gabor Szabo,
Kayak,
Stiv Bators,
Ice-T,
Ponytail,
H. Thieme,
The Stooges,
John Cale,
The Mummies,
DJ Style,
Colin Newman,
Gang Green,
Talk Talk,
The Toasters,
Spandau Ballet,
Robert Görl,
Black Pus,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The New Christs,
Interpol,
Stetsasonic,
Davy DMX,
Al Stewart,
These Immortal Souls,
Bronski Beat,
The Young Rascals,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mars,
The Angels of Light,
Newcleus,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Womack,
Alice Coltrane,
Babytalk,
Harpers Bizarre,
World's Most,
Ken Boothe,
Con Funk Shun,
Porter Ricks,
Clear Light,
Tim Buckley,
Rapeman,
Scion,
The Selecter,
Heaven 17,
The Smiths,
Don Cherry,
Liliput,
Blossom Toes,
Average White Band,
Outsiders,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.