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 Colombia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Stooges to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Dawn Penn,
The Cowsills,
Faust,
The Victims,
Parry Music,
Bobby Womack,
The Count Five,
Echospace,
The Trojans,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fatback Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nils Olav,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
James White and The Blacks,
Lakeside,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magazine,
Pussy Galore,
Archie Shepp,
Prince Buster,
Graham Central Station,
Max Romeo,
Stiv Bators,
The Durutti Column,
Saccharine Trust,
David McCallum,
Minutemen,
T.S.O.L.,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Vogues,
The Evens,
Chris & Cosey,
EPMD,
Adolescents,
Los Fastidios,
John Lydon,
Barrington Levy,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Mantronix,
Cecil Taylor,
ABC,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Misunderstood,
Juan Atkins,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Easy Going,
Reagan Youth,
Khruangbin,
Pierre Henry,
Amazonics,
Japan,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.