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 Bahamas and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Cluster,
Fat Boys,
Duran Duran,
June of 44,
Rufus Thomas,
Circle Jerks,
Jacques Brel,
Bob Dylan,
The Walker Brothers,
Zapp,
Camouflage,
Radio Birdman,
Nico,
Al Stewart,
Parry Music,
Royal Trux,
Tubeway Army,
Dawn Penn,
Sparks,
The Smoke,
Janne Schatter,
Barry Ungar,
Charles Mingus,
Todd Rundgren,
Radiopuhelimet,
EPMD,
Kerri Chandler,
Los Fastidios,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Toni Rubio,
Scion,
Aural Exciters,
Henry Cow,
Reuben Wilson,
The Sound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Johnny Clarke,
Brothers Johnson,
Panda Bear,
James White and The Blacks,
The Kinks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boredoms,
Lou Christie,
Bobby Womack,
Carl Craig,
Judy Mowatt,
The Angels of Light,
Chris & Cosey,
Ronan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Zero Boys,
The Vogues,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marvin Gaye,
48th St. Collective,
kango's stein massive,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.