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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Monks to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Slits,
Cameo,
Stiv Bators,
Fatback Band,
Marmalade,
Roxy Music,
Average White Band,
Andrew Hill,
Motorama,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
Negative Approach,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Durutti Column,
Man Parrish,
Nils Olav,
Animal Collective,
Faraquet,
Kaleidoscope,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
World's Most,
Eric Copeland,
Eli Mardock,
Albert Ayler,
Davy DMX,
Blake Baxter,
The Litter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Yellowson,
Ohio Players,
Kurtis Blow,
Livin' Joy,
MC5,
Althea and Donna,
Parry Music,
The Electric Prunes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gerry Rafferty,
Blancmange,
Au Pairs,
The Last Poets,
Lou Christie,
Scan 7,
Toni Rubio,
Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jimmy McGriff,
Hoover,
The Fuzztones,
Organ,
The Knickerbockers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Move,
Joyce Sims,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scion,
The Birthday Party,
The Mummies,
Rotary Connection,
Glambeats Corp.,
Talk Talk,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.