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 Georgia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dave Clark Five to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
The Martian,
Scion,
Bobby Byrd,
Barrington Levy,
Minny Pops,
Rod Modell,
X-102,
The Walker Brothers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
X-101,
Excepter,
Massinfluence,
Soulsonic Force,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bizarre Inc.,
Prince Buster,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minnie Riperton,
Freddie Wadling,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nas,
The Fortunes,
Rufus Thomas,
China Crisis,
Bootsy Collins,
Monolake,
Glenn Branca,
June Days,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joy Division,
Gabor Szabo,
Siglo XX,
Leonard Cohen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brick,
Warsaw,
Harry Pussy,
Pere Ubu,
Lucky Dragons,
F. McDonald,
Livin' Joy,
Anakelly,
Symarip,
Black Moon,
Popol Vuh,
The Stooges,
Icehouse,
Cecil Taylor,
The Searchers,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Smiths,
Nick Fraelich,
Gong,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Derrick Morgan,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.