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 Sri Lanka and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Monolake to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Detroit Cobras,
Severed Heads,
Sun Ra,
The Martian,
The New Christs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Negative Approach,
Scrapy,
Deepchord,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alison Limerick,
Pole,
Eddi Front,
Heaven 17,
Brand Nubian,
Section 25,
Bush Tetras,
Moss Icon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Metal Thangz,
Zapp,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Visage,
David Axelrod,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Fire Engines,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Swans,
Quantec,
Gerry Rafferty,
Curtis Mayfield,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Smoke,
Fluxion,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nils Olav,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Sherman,
Ituana,
Dual Sessions,
Goldenarms,
The Monks,
Wasted Youth,
Newcleus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Depeche Mode,
Scientists,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Shuggie Otis,
Roger Hodgson,
Marmalade,
Dead Boys,
The Blackbyrds,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
MC5,
JFA,
Warren Ellis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Deakin,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.