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 Panama and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Absolute Body Control to the rap 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Sällskapet,
Nas,
Masters at Work,
DJ Style,
Drexciya,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kenny Larkin,
Porter Ricks,
These Immortal Souls,
Rites of Spring,
Japan,
The Sound,
Sandy B,
Intrusion,
Agitation Free,
China Crisis,
Monks,
Lindisfarne,
Main Source,
Mad Mike,
The Leaves,
Harpers Bizarre,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
T.S.O.L.,
Suicide,
Sixth Finger,
Gerry Rafferty,
ABC,
The Names,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Dirtbombs,
Tom Boy,
Chris Corsano,
the Bar-Kays,
Steve Hackett,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pharoah Sanders,
Make Up,
Kaleidoscope,
Curtis Mayfield,
Donald Byrd,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wire,
Godley & Creme,
John Lydon,
Slick Rick,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
DNA,
Blossom Toes,
Ituana,
Traffic Nightmare,
Trumans Water,
the Germs,
New Order,
The Young Rascals,
Kurtis Blow,
Sex Pistols,
Stockholm Monsters,
World's Most,
Swell Maps,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.