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 Chad and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Dead Boys,
The Offenders,
Tears for Fears,
Kevin Saunderson,
Index,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lyres,
Sparks,
The Detroit Cobras,
ABC,
Accadde A,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marine Girls,
Kool Moe Dee,
U.S. Maple,
Hardrive,
Kerri Chandler,
Silicon Teens,
Thompson Twins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
ABBA,
Marshall Jefferson,
Television Personalities,
Minny Pops,
Roxy Music,
Connie Case,
Eurythmics,
Oblivians,
Pole,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
Joyce Sims,
LL Cool J,
The Tremeloes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Theoretical Girls,
The Dirtbombs,
Deadbeat,
Bad Manners,
James White and The Blacks,
Arcadia,
Fatback Band,
A Certain Ratio,
The Names,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Sherman,
New Age Steppers,
Bobby Byrd,
Main Source,
The Motions,
The Martian,
Blake Baxter,
Kayak,
Juan Atkins,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Vogues,
Tommy Roe,
Alison Limerick,
Youth Brigade,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.