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 Mongolia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes 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 The Black Dice to the disco 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
The Cowsills,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Albert Ayler,
Funky Four + One,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fela Kuti,
Soulsonic Force,
Suburban Knight,
Royal Trux,
Drexciya,
The Divine Comedy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scratch Acid,
The Cramps,
Minny Pops,
The Kinks,
The New Christs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marmalade,
Scientists,
The Last Poets,
Fugazi,
The Misunderstood,
Eve St. Jones,
Michelle Simonal,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric Copeland,
The Invisible,
Lyres,
Jerry's Kids,
The Velvet Underground,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rapeman,
Porter Ricks,
Banda Bassotti,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
One Last Wish,
Livin' Joy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Joensuu 1685,
Supertramp,
kango's stein massive,
Reuben Wilson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barrington Levy,
Silicon Teens,
Wolf Eyes,
Negative Approach,
Bobby Womack,
Average White Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sonic Youth,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Slackers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Motorama,
The Cure,
Oneida,
Sällskapet,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.