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 United Kingdom and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the grime 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
The Saints,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Can,
Gichy Dan,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
Davy DMX,
Arthur Verocai,
Tubeway Army,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Byrd,
Tres Demented,
The Modern Lovers,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott Heron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Talk Talk,
Amazonics,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Music Machine,
Marshall Jefferson,
Warren Ellis,
Harmonia,
Lyres,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Quadrant,
Cal Tjader,
Aloha Tigers,
Jandek,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Litter,
Blake Baxter,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Slave,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dead C,
Bill Wells,
Sixth Finger,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yaz,
Fluxion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pere Ubu,
Barbara Tucker,
Bronski Beat,
Brothers Johnson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rosa Yemen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Q65,
Robert Hood,
Essential Logic,
Sam Rivers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minutemen,
Pussy Galore,
The Barracudas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.