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 Guyana and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the jazz 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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Brick,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Absolute Body Control,
Sarah Menescal,
The Music Machine,
Au Pairs,
Amazonics,
Niagra,
Zero Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Accadde A,
Ten City,
H. Thieme,
Ultra Naté,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Desert Stars,
Icehouse,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tomorrow,
Radio Birdman,
Todd Terry,
A Certain Ratio,
Joensuu 1685,
Soulsonic Force,
Isaac Hayes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
The Cramps,
Robert Wyatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Massinfluence,
The Angels of Light,
X-101,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Monks,
the Normal,
Heaven 17,
Arthur Verocai,
Stetsasonic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
China Crisis,
David Axelrod,
Alice Coltrane,
Todd Rundgren,
Ossler,
Hasil Adkins,
June of 44,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Near,
Sonic Youth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Charles Mingus,
The Velvet Underground,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Blossom Toes,
Althea and Donna,
Bizarre Inc.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.