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 India and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron 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 Fear to the jazz 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Tim Buckley,
Harmonia,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Slave,
Magma,
Cymande,
Sam Rivers,
Hoover,
Mr. Review,
Delon & Dalcan,
June of 44,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Last Poets,
In Retrospect,
Lou Christie,
Easy Going,
Marc Almond,
the Slits,
The Martian,
Pussy Galore,
Pagans,
Niagra,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Selecter,
Blancmange,
China Crisis,
The Pop Group,
Archie Shepp,
The Motions,
Joensuu 1685,
Parry Music,
MC5,
Lee Hazlewood,
Arthur Verocai,
Sex Pistols,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
The Vogues,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Monks,
Ronnie Foster,
Isaac Hayes,
Roger Hodgson,
Kerri Chandler,
Dawn Penn,
Alison Limerick,
These Immortal Souls,
Vladislav Delay,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cramps,
James White and The Blacks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Donald Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Monks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Davy DMX,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.