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 Equatorial Guinea and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ 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 Deepchord to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Remains,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gil Scott Heron,
Goldenarms,
Radio Birdman,
the Germs,
Sam Rivers,
The Offenders,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Foxx,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Amazonics,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Monks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Minutemen,
Radiopuhelimet,
Aloha Tigers,
Neu!,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wolf Eyes,
Angry Samoans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Technova,
K-Klass,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Walker Brothers,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Trumans Water,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tim Buckley,
Mark Hollis,
The Electric Prunes,
Bad Manners,
Erasure,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Quantec,
Black Moon,
Icehouse,
Television Personalities,
Minor Threat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wasted Youth,
Model 500,
Maleditus Sound,
The Stooges,
Rapeman,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.