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 Kiribati and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro 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 Albert Ayler to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
a-ha,
Negative Approach,
Whodini,
Moby Grape,
Idris Muhammad,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Smiths,
Maurizio,
Terry Callier,
Robert Görl,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Pus,
Massinfluence,
Sight & Sound,
The Gories,
Susan Cadogan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Malaria!,
The Gun Club,
Wings,
Babytalk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Germs,
DJ Style,
The Flesh Eaters,
Chris & Cosey,
Toni Rubio,
Radio Birdman,
Motorama,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Q and Not U,
Minutemen,
Joey Negro,
Johnny Osbourne,
Albert Ayler,
Siglo XX,
Sugar Minott,
Piero Umiliani,
Janne Schatter,
The Electric Prunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mars,
the Sonics,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Heaven 17,
Gong,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
JFA,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ten City,
Darondo,
The Stooges,
The Techniques,
The Moody Blues,
Pantytec,
Banda Bassotti,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.