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 Haiti and from New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Popol Vuh to the disco 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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Andrew Hill,
Colin Newman,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeff Mills,
The Dirtbombs,
The New Christs,
Connie Case,
Subhumans,
Deepchord,
Warren Ellis,
Section 25,
Flipper,
Infiniti,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lyres,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blake Baxter,
Trumans Water,
Maurizio,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crime,
Bizarre Inc.,
Deadbeat,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Red Krayola,
Arab on Radar,
Althea and Donna,
Laurel Aitken,
The Skatalites,
The Standells,
Outsiders,
Suburban Knight,
Todd Rundgren,
Rod Modell,
New York Dolls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hoover,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Womack,
The Misunderstood,
These Immortal Souls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mission of Burma,
Eurythmics,
Curtis Mayfield,
Howard Jones,
Camouflage,
Mantronix,
Minnie Riperton,
John Coltrane,
Black Pus,
DJ Sneak,
Silicon Teens,
Eric Dolphy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lalann,
Tres Demented,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.