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 Singapore and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Nile Rodgers 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
The Dave Clark Five,
Minutemen,
Lungfish,
Deepchord,
Gang Green,
The Litter,
FM Einheit,
Ultra Naté,
Sandy B,
The Neon Judgement,
Chris Corsano,
Shoche,
Saccharine Trust,
Panda Bear,
DJ Sneak,
Kenny Larkin,
Visage,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roxette,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Bananas,
The Flesh Eaters,
David Axelrod,
Blancmange,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brass Construction,
Royal Trux,
Donny Hathaway,
Rekid,
Pussy Galore,
10cc,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Music Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wally Richardson,
Young Marble Giants,
Jeff Lynne,
Bauhaus,
MDC,
Rod Modell,
Boredoms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joyce Sims,
Radio Birdman,
Camberwell Now,
Eric Dolphy,
Susan Cadogan,
Rufus Thomas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Morten Harket,
Sexual Harrassment,
Can,
Arthur Verocai,
Marvin Gaye,
Angry Samoans,
Harmonia,
The Wake,
The Pretty Things,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Adolescents,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.