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 Afghanistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kinks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delta 5 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Divine Comedy,
The Saints,
Camouflage,
Scott Walker,
Khruangbin,
Qualms,
The Knickerbockers,
Roy Ayers,
Joe Finger,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yellowson,
Mr. Review,
Desert Stars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marine Girls,
Parry Music,
The Slits,
Make Up,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Brick,
The Fortunes,
Pagans,
Young Marble Giants,
Magma,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Radiopuhelimet,
Television Personalities,
the Swans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joyce Sims,
Metal Thangz,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Idris Muhammad,
Mo-Dettes,
Soft Machine,
China Crisis,
Radiohead,
Average White Band,
Graham Central Station,
Jawbox,
Sister Nancy,
Black Pus,
Faraquet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bad Manners,
The Slackers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Remains,
Index,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David Bowie,
Procol Harum,
JFA,
Flash Fearless,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cowsills,
The Fuzztones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.