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 Honduras and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Chris Corsano to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Ituana,
The Fire Engines,
Massinfluence,
Arab on Radar,
Oblivians,
Motorama,
Faraquet,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Leaves,
Stiv Bators,
Whodini,
Joe Smooth,
Man Eating Sloth,
R.M.O.,
John Holt,
Excepter,
Letta Mbulu,
The Zeros,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brass Construction,
Lalo Schifrin,
Supertramp,
T. Rex,
Laurel Aitken,
Patti Smith,
the Slits,
Bobby Womack,
Swell Maps,
Crispian St. Peters,
Agitation Free,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ken Boothe,
F. McDonald,
MC5,
Pet Shop Boys,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Birthday Party,
Stereo Dub,
Nick Fraelich,
Beasts of Bourbon,
MDC,
B.T. Express,
Newcleus,
Q65,
Terry Callier,
Eurythmics,
Nik Kershaw,
Crash Course in Science,
The Durutti Column,
Audionom,
The Moleskins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Moebius,
Pagans,
The American Breed,
Cameo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.