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 United States and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord 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 The Real Kids to the punk 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Babytalk,
Eric Copeland,
Scrapy,
Man Parrish,
Royal Trux,
the Soft Cell,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Flamin' Groovies,
Terrestrial Tones,
Qualms,
Simply Red,
Wasted Youth,
Severed Heads,
Little Man,
Chris & Cosey,
Kas Product,
Skaos,
Aloha Tigers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Remains,
the Sonics,
The Martian,
Cal Tjader,
John Foxx,
The Pretty Things,
Archie Shepp,
Absolute Body Control,
Deadbeat,
Roxette,
Eden Ahbez,
Malaria!,
Tom Boy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Camouflage,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Visage,
Hashim,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stiv Bators,
Rufus Thomas,
Goldenarms,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Aural Exciters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Au Pairs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Trumans Water,
Sparks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jeff Lynne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Red Krayola,
Fat Boys,
Sun Ra,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.