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 El Salvador and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Black Flag to the crunk 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Desert Stars,
Laurel Aitken,
The Detroit Cobras,
Simply Red,
Andrew Hill,
Minor Threat,
Peter and Kerry,
Dual Sessions,
Rapeman,
Electric Prunes,
R.M.O.,
Pagans,
Alton Ellis,
DJ Sneak,
Hot Snakes,
Sun Ra,
David McCallum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Harry Pussy,
Flipper,
Alphaville,
Idris Muhammad,
Public Image Ltd.,
Niagra,
UT,
Can,
Henry Cow,
Quando Quango,
The Saints,
The Raincoats,
The Mummies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lucky Dragons,
Smog,
Avey Tare,
Tears for Fears,
Ornette Coleman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tomorrow,
Donald Byrd,
Peter & Gordon,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Stooges,
Sister Nancy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ultra Naté,
Grey Daturas,
Lindisfarne,
Joensuu 1685,
Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lou Reed,
Janne Schatter,
New York Dolls,
Fatback Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Prince Buster,
Index,
Animal Collective,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.