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 El Salvador and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin 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 Echospace to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pole,
The Count Five,
Moby Grape,
Jeff Mills,
Robert Hood,
Anthony Braxton,
Unrelated Segments,
Eddi Front,
Ronnie Foster,
Faraquet,
The Neon Judgement,
Monolake,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fugs,
Amon Düül,
Popol Vuh,
Kayak,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Names,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Faust,
World's Most,
Second Layer,
David McCallum,
The Blackbyrds,
The Mojo Men,
Cecil Taylor,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cybotron,
The Fall,
Thee Headcoats,
Index,
Tom Boy,
Negative Approach,
Todd Terry,
Piero Umiliani,
Sällskapet,
Quantec,
Joey Negro,
Rufus Thomas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Last Poets,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Khruangbin,
Morten Harket,
Los Fastidios,
Darondo,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Graham Central Station,
Ultimate Spinach,
Crooked Eye,
Moebius,
Fugazi,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gichy Dan,
Maleditus Sound,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.