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 Rwanda and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe 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 Alice Coltrane to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
the Slits,
Bob Dylan,
Dave Gahan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
EPMD,
Avey Tare,
Grey Daturas,
Eve St. Jones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lou Christie,
The Sound,
Electric Prunes,
the Human League,
Pulsallama,
The Searchers,
Pet Shop Boys,
KRS-One,
The Dirtbombs,
The Trojans,
Ultimate Spinach,
June of 44,
The J.B.'s,
Youth Brigade,
Todd Rundgren,
Blake Baxter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tubeway Army,
Monolake,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lyres,
The Motions,
Symarip,
Nik Kershaw,
Judy Mowatt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sarah Menescal,
Glambeats Corp.,
Angry Samoans,
Alice Coltrane,
Sonic Youth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wire,
Mantronix,
Mark Hollis,
Funky Four + One,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Alphaville,
L. Decosne,
Average White Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bang On A Can,
The Slackers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lower 48,
This Heat,
The Victims,
Gregory Isaacs,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.