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 Gambia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Mexico City and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pussy Galore,
Black Moon,
Camberwell Now,
Gang of Four,
Tomorrow,
T.S.O.L.,
Hot Snakes,
Trumans Water,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eden Ahbez,
Matthew Bourne,
Angry Samoans,
Das Ding,
Agitation Free,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Toni Rubio,
Mandrill,
Ultra Naté,
The Raincoats,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Selecter,
Connie Case,
Sparks,
The Beau Brummels,
The Pretty Things,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Bar-Kays,
Public Image Ltd.,
Swans,
Josef K,
Warren Ellis,
The Five Americans,
The Litter,
Skarface,
Niagra,
The Slits,
Aural Exciters,
Skriet,
Bluetip,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Country Teasers,
Rufus Thomas,
Dual Sessions,
Brick,
Colin Newman,
Maurizio,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ten City,
X-102,
Funky Four + One,
the Association,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Freddie Wadling,
Vladislav Delay,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cal Tjader,
Main Source,
Metal Thangz,
Bill Wells,
Lindisfarne,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.