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 Ukraine and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 New York Dolls to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
The Dead C,
John Holt,
Black Pus,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
Wings,
Public Enemy,
Kas Product,
Jeff Lynne,
Faust,
Ice-T,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bush Tetras,
The Invisible,
Davy DMX,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Stetsasonic,
Thompson Twins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Babytalk,
Popol Vuh,
Slave,
Skriet,
Jeff Mills,
Nils Olav,
Silicon Teens,
The Trojans,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Black Bananas,
K-Klass,
John Foxx,
Joey Negro,
The Cowsills,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Monks,
The Motions,
Bobby Womack,
Neil Young,
Tres Demented,
Robert Görl,
The Tremeloes,
This Heat,
Kerri Chandler,
Y Pants,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Section 25,
Black Sheep,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cecil Taylor,
Fat Boys,
the Slits,
Suicide,
Robert Hood,
Main Source,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gun Club,
Drexciya,
Hashim,
Glenn Branca,
Rufus Thomas,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.