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 East Timor and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sister Nancy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
UT,
Circle Jerks,
D'Angelo,
Boz Scaggs,
Young Marble Giants,
The Knickerbockers,
Ossler,
Jandek,
The Zeros,
Das Ding,
Buzzcocks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Toni Rubio,
Bang On A Can,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joe Finger,
The Buckinghams,
Eli Mardock,
Royal Trux,
Tim Buckley,
Ituana,
ABBA,
Los Fastidios,
Minutemen,
Pussy Galore,
Eric Copeland,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eve St. Jones,
Tom Boy,
Underground Resistance,
Minor Threat,
The Slits,
Jerry's Kids,
Barbara Tucker,
Amon Düül II,
John Holt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Music Machine,
Lou Christie,
the Slits,
Jacques Brel,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Sherman,
Kenny Larkin,
Von Mondo,
The Real Kids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eurythmics,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Don Cherry,
Letta Mbulu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Five Americans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marshall Jefferson,
Delta 5,
Little Man,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fatback Band,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.