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 Cape Verde and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terry Callier to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultra Naté,
Minnie Riperton,
the Swans,
Animal Collective,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rapeman,
Aaron Thompson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
PIL,
Warsaw,
10cc,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-101,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lalann,
Underground Resistance,
The Barracudas,
Chris & Cosey,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Popol Vuh,
Alton Ellis,
Moby Grape,
Roy Ayers,
Barbara Tucker,
DJ Sneak,
Marvin Gaye,
The Gories,
Reuben Wilson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Vladislav Delay,
James White and The Blacks,
Youth Brigade,
Sugar Minott,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantytec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Grass Roots,
Althea and Donna,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pulsallama,
Judy Mowatt,
Roxy Music,
OOIOO,
48th St. Collective,
Whodini,
Simply Red,
The Fall,
Can,
Funky Four + One,
R.M.O.,
John Cale,
Reagan Youth,
Anakelly,
Stiv Bators,
The Index,
Agent Orange,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.