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 Mexico and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Invisible to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
The Wake,
Fad Gadget,
T. Rex,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
The Fugs,
Angry Samoans,
Whodini,
Barry Ungar,
Letta Mbulu,
Bootsy Collins,
Swell Maps,
The Monks,
The Fire Engines,
Banda Bassotti,
Skaos,
Minor Threat,
Franke,
Sex Pistols,
Minnie Riperton,
Marshall Jefferson,
Judy Mowatt,
Joe Finger,
Reagan Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Tubeway Army,
The Cure,
Country Teasers,
Kurtis Blow,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Human League,
U.S. Maple,
Joensuu 1685,
Michelle Simonal,
Camberwell Now,
Cybotron,
Tres Demented,
Cluster,
Radio Birdman,
Spoonie Gee,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Inner City,
Steve Hackett,
Cal Tjader,
Popol Vuh,
The Trojans,
The Black Dice,
Icehouse,
Delta 5,
Alphaville,
Maurizio,
Brand Nubian,
Big Daddy Kane,
Average White Band,
Kaleidoscope,
David Axelrod,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
a-ha,
Smog,
One Last Wish,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.