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 Panama and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Pagans to the rap 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 JFA. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
The Tremeloes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blues Magoos,
Thee Headcoats,
Scion,
Severed Heads,
In Retrospect,
Funkadelic,
Khruangbin,
Suburban Knight,
T. Rex,
Grandmaster Flash,
Cymande,
The Kinks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gang Green,
Agitation Free,
Second Layer,
Negative Approach,
Gabor Szabo,
Nirvana,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fluxion,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Monks,
Y Pants,
Monks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Smoke,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Names,
Interpol,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camberwell Now,
Don Cherry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Sonics,
The Modern Lovers,
Television,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ohio Players,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Half Japanese,
Scan 7,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
Connie Case,
The Vogues,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy Collins,
Marcia Griffiths,
The United States of America,
Black Moon,
The Seeds,
Procol Harum,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.