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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Darondo to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Amazonics,
Model 500,
Man Parrish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Techniques,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Silicon Teens,
Au Pairs,
Jeff Lynne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
a-ha,
The Fuzztones,
The Stooges,
Japan,
The Knickerbockers,
The Real Kids,
the Swans,
Procol Harum,
The J.B.'s,
Gang Starr,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dawn Penn,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rufus Thomas,
Mission of Burma,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kerri Chandler,
The Seeds,
Alton Ellis,
The Kinks,
Alphaville,
Crash Course in Science,
Simply Red,
Kaleidoscope,
The Standells,
Funky Four + One,
Nik Kershaw,
Byron Stingily,
DJ Style,
Lalann,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Chris Corsano,
Liliput,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rosa Yemen,
Andrew Hill,
H. Thieme,
Slave,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
OOIOO,
Terrestrial Tones,
Maurizio,
Funkadelic,
Shoche,
Rites of Spring,
Scan 7,
Harry Pussy,
Scientists,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.