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 Guinea and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Mojo Men to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Radiopuhelimet,
Desert Stars,
Guru Guru,
Ohio Players,
Inner City,
Ralphi Rosario,
Glenn Branca,
Marine Girls,
The Divine Comedy,
Man Parrish,
The American Breed,
Altered Images,
The Young Rascals,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Magma,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Searchers,
Fugazi,
Masters at Work,
Index,
Tom Boy,
Eric Copeland,
Boogie Down Productions,
Franke,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eve St. Jones,
Depeche Mode,
John Cale,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gichy Dan,
Dennis Brown,
Duran Duran,
Trumans Water,
Aloha Tigers,
Accadde A,
Matthew Bourne,
Grauzone,
Babytalk,
Liliput,
One Last Wish,
Groovy Waters,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Angels of Light,
The Sonics,
Rosa Yemen,
Brothers Johnson,
The United States of America,
Boz Scaggs,
June Days,
Tropical Tobacco,
Can,
Underground Resistance,
Eric B and Rakim,
Thompson Twins,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yaz,
Josef K,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.