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 Nicaragua and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Vainqueur to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tres Demented,
Visage,
Lou Reed,
Peter & Gordon,
Ohio Players,
The Detroit Cobras,
F. McDonald,
The Raincoats,
The Divine Comedy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Remains,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Camouflage,
Dorothy Ashby,
Little Man,
Von Mondo,
Nick Fraelich,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mantronix,
Erasure,
DJ Style,
Crooked Eye,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glambeats Corp.,
a-ha,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Spandau Ballet,
Derrick Morgan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Model 500,
Harry Pussy,
The Names,
Jeff Mills,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Urselle,
Heaven 17,
Surgeon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Slackers,
Make Up,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Juan Atkins,
Toni Rubio,
Pulsallama,
Jacques Brel,
Amazonics,
Bush Tetras,
Tim Buckley,
Smog,
Graham Central Station,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Marmalade,
Au Pairs,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.