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 Pakistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Donny Hathaway to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Yazoo,
The Golliwogs,
Flipper,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Flag,
Unwound,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Remains,
Lakeside,
Ludus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
EPMD,
Minnie Riperton,
Barry Ungar,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marvin Gaye,
Janne Schatter,
Man Eating Sloth,
Vladislav Delay,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scratch Acid,
Ohio Players,
Circle Jerks,
Mad Mike,
Visage,
Saccharine Trust,
Dark Day,
Pussy Galore,
June Days,
Ten City,
Josef K,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
AZ,
Section 25,
Lower 48,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Traffic Nightmare,
Procol Harum,
10cc,
The Blues Magoos,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Leonard Cohen,
Motorama,
Mary Jane Girls,
Amon Düül,
PIL,
the Germs,
Oneida,
Ice-T,
Lebanon Hanover,
The J.B.'s,
Amon Düül II,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Starr,
Stereo Dub,
Prince Buster,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.