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 States and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord 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 Rosa Yemen to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Harry Pussy,
Rekid,
Mission of Burma,
The Doobie Brothers,
Camouflage,
Banda Bassotti,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cal Tjader,
The Litter,
Neu!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The American Breed,
The Remains,
Curtis Mayfield,
Idris Muhammad,
Tears for Fears,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Sheep,
UT,
the Slits,
Easy Going,
Amon Düül,
The Zeros,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonny Sharrock,
Matthew Halsall,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Black Bananas,
Yellowson,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
Robert Wyatt,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Byrd,
Adolescents,
The Busters,
The Sonics,
Bill Wells,
Neil Young,
Don Cherry,
Kayak,
Radio Birdman,
The Searchers,
Make Up,
Sparks,
Public Enemy,
Pantaleimon,
The Index,
Eden Ahbez,
Nation of Ulysses,
Audionom,
DNA,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.