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 Costa Rica and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Martian to the grunge 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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Can,
Maleditus Sound,
T. Rex,
John Coltrane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
E-Dancer,
Absolute Body Control,
June Days,
The Cowsills,
Rakim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Average White Band,
Tomorrow,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bad Manners,
Sandy B,
The Grass Roots,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Beau Brummels,
Lakeside,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monolake,
Joe Smooth,
Crime,
Echospace,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Fall,
Mars,
Tim Buckley,
James White and The Blacks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Little Man,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Lucky Dragons,
Dark Day,
The Monochrome Set,
Fear,
Minor Threat,
The Zeros,
Boredoms,
The Cosmic Jokers,
B.T. Express,
Roy Ayers,
Minnie Riperton,
Aswad,
Trumans Water,
Essential Logic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Almond,
The Gories,
Michelle Simonal,
Groovy Waters,
KRS-One,
Kerri Chandler,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.