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 Ivory Coast and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Amazonics,
The Grass Roots,
The J.B.'s,
Q65,
Lightning Bolt,
Bronski Beat,
The Angels of Light,
The Fuzztones,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alton Ellis,
Scientists,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang of Four,
Bobby Womack,
Minor Threat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sex Pistols,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Vogues,
Boogie Down Productions,
Main Source,
Delta 5,
Ultimate Spinach,
Derrick May,
Cal Tjader,
DJ Sneak,
Hot Snakes,
The Toasters,
Half Japanese,
The Index,
Chrome,
the Swans,
Bill Near,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
Wally Richardson,
Byron Stingily,
Ken Boothe,
the Sonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Todd Rundgren,
the Normal,
The Modern Lovers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Divine Comedy,
Skriet,
John Cale,
Japan,
Tommy Roe,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Birthday Party,
Thompson Twins,
The Remains,
Bush Tetras,
PIL,
Scratch Acid,
Metal Thangz,
Cameo,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.