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 Estonia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Michael McDonald 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 Porter Ricks to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Silicon Teens,
Malaria!,
Icehouse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gerry Rafferty,
In Retrospect,
The Martian,
The Last Poets,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Skatalites,
Stockholm Monsters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arthur Verocai,
Tim Buckley,
the Bar-Kays,
Mandrill,
The Happenings,
The Birthday Party,
Drexciya,
Buzzcocks,
Jeff Lynne,
Average White Band,
Porter Ricks,
Bad Manners,
Reagan Youth,
Dual Sessions,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Television,
Matthew Bourne,
Royal Trux,
Masters at Work,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Unwound,
Barry Ungar,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Schoolly D,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Althea and Donna,
Freddie Wadling,
Loose Ends,
The Blues Magoos,
Robert Görl,
Gichy Dan,
James White and The Blacks,
Clear Light,
Absolute Body Control,
cv313,
Sonny Sharrock,
Laurel Aitken,
Cybotron,
Monolake,
World's Most,
Sun City Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Agitation Free,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kerri Chandler,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.