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 Malaysia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin 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 Delta 5 to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Slick Rick,
Boredoms,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Standells,
The Gladiators,
The Smiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tim Buckley,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rotary Connection,
Colin Newman,
the Germs,
Skriet,
Das Ding,
LL Cool J,
Outsiders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Little Man,
Dark Day,
Monks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bill Near,
Siglo XX,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wings,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bluetip,
Blossom Toes,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gichy Dan,
the Soft Cell,
The Doors,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Los Fastidios,
The Tremeloes,
The Seeds,
The Count Five,
Skaos,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Harpers Bizarre,
Maurizio,
Yazoo,
Cluster,
Scrapy,
John Coltrane,
The Invisible,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brothers Johnson,
Jacques Brel,
Roy Ayers,
Nick Fraelich,
Graham Central Station,
The Flesh Eaters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Iggy Pop,
Wire,
New Age Steppers,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.