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 South Sudan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 linndrum 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 Harry Pussy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet 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 synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
the Bar-Kays,
48th St. Collective,
Joey Negro,
New York Dolls,
Leonard Cohen,
Pierre Henry,
Warsaw,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eric Dolphy,
Dead Boys,
K-Klass,
Brass Construction,
Josef K,
Pere Ubu,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slick Rick,
Lyres,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dawn Penn,
Ronan,
Deepchord,
Trumans Water,
Simply Red,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joe Finger,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lungfish,
Joyce Sims,
The Red Krayola,
UT,
Fela Kuti,
The Victims,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vladislav Delay,
Khruangbin,
The Sonics,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Smiths,
U.S. Maple,
Camouflage,
the Normal,
Rekid,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Lou Christie,
Man Parrish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Groovy Waters,
Marvin Gaye,
Brick,
Chrome,
The Vogues,
Black Bananas,
Prince Buster,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Motorama,
Sonic Youth,
John Lydon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Faust,
The Move,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.