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 Kazakhstan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Robert Palmer 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 Flamin' Groovies to the dance 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band 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 Pretty Things,
Unrelated Segments,
The Alarm Clocks,
Byron Stingily,
The Saints,
This Heat,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kurtis Blow,
Joy Division,
LL Cool J,
MDC,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Fortunes,
Blancmange,
The Invisible,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gong,
The Misunderstood,
Yaz,
Cluster,
Qualms,
Supertramp,
Ice-T,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Royal Trux,
Jawbox,
Quando Quango,
Tres Demented,
Mandrill,
Curtis Mayfield,
Absolute Body Control,
Thompson Twins,
Mission of Burma,
Rites of Spring,
Barbara Tucker,
Essential Logic,
Skaos,
F. McDonald,
the Slits,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Zeros,
Dave Gahan,
Infiniti,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Porter Ricks,
Jandek,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masters at Work,
The Standells,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Knickerbockers,
Soft Machine,
Howard Jones,
The Motions,
Siglo XX,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.