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 Malaysia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Au Pairs,
The Sonics,
Blancmange,
Jacques Brel,
The Golliwogs,
Heaven 17,
Man Parrish,
Banda Bassotti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
Pulsallama,
Ultra Naté,
Brand Nubian,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bad Manners,
Minnie Riperton,
Moebius,
Index,
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Bananas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donny Hathaway,
FM Einheit,
L. Decosne,
Hardrive,
The Kinks,
Bush Tetras,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amon Düül,
The Gun Club,
Jandek,
The Gladiators,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Todd Rundgren,
Agent Orange,
The Martian,
The Neon Judgement,
Ken Boothe,
Wolf Eyes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Interpol,
Deakin,
The Offenders,
Wally Richardson,
Metal Thangz,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gichy Dan,
Agitation Free,
Connie Case,
Sparks,
Jeff Lynne,
Basic Channel,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.