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 Ukraine and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 snare 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 Sex Pistols to the jazz 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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Five Americans,
Mantronix,
Laurel Aitken,
Jimmy McGriff,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mr. Review,
Absolute Body Control,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Normal,
Nico,
Cymande,
June of 44,
Maurizio,
8 Eyed Spy,
Roger Hodgson,
Lucky Dragons,
Boz Scaggs,
Barrington Levy,
Y Pants,
Lou Reed,
Masters at Work,
Bronski Beat,
Pulsallama,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Fugs,
Cheater Slicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eve St. Jones,
Minor Threat,
Tubeway Army,
The United States of America,
Eden Ahbez,
Andrew Hill,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eric Copeland,
Pussy Galore,
Dead Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Livin' Joy,
Robert Hood,
Scrapy,
Moss Icon,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Move,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Associates,
Gang Gang Dance,
Symarip,
Archie Shepp,
Harmonia,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bluetip,
Michelle Simonal,
Qualms,
Patti Smith,
James White and The Blacks,
Todd Rundgren,
Jawbox,
Radiopuhelimet,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.