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 Colombia and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Robert Hood to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Deadbeat,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
Outsiders,
The Mummies,
Nas,
Bad Manners,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skriet,
Con Funk Shun,
The Blues Magoos,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eddi Front,
Sam Rivers,
Suicide,
The Zeros,
Kerri Chandler,
Trumans Water,
the Sonics,
The Modern Lovers,
Ken Boothe,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pole,
Excepter,
Camouflage,
Roy Ayers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ice-T,
David Axelrod,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jerry's Kids,
Unwound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Metal Thangz,
The Toasters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Kinks,
MC5,
Rosa Yemen,
Rhythm & Sound,
Khruangbin,
The Gun Club,
The Five Americans,
Dead Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
The Beau Brummels,
Fluxion,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Boredoms,
Wings,
DNA,
Los Fastidios,
Bauhaus,
Grauzone,
Parry Music,
The Slits,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.