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 Mexico and from Shanghai.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb 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 Gichy Dan to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Mars,
Magma,
L. Decosne,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Music Machine,
Franke,
The Buckinghams,
Scion,
Model 500,
Sister Nancy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ponytail,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Golliwogs,
Supertramp,
Throbbing Gristle,
David McCallum,
Quantec,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crash Course in Science,
Eden Ahbez,
Andrew Hill,
E-Dancer,
Stetsasonic,
K-Klass,
Tim Buckley,
Susan Cadogan,
June Days,
Clear Light,
Bad Manners,
Johnny Clarke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deadbeat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Knickerbockers,
Sam Rivers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Das Ding,
Jeff Mills,
New Age Steppers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bronski Beat,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Interpol,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ultimate Spinach,
Electric Prunes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Maurizio,
Agitation Free,
The Birthday Party,
Von Mondo,
Alison Limerick,
Kerri Chandler,
Inner City,
Hot Snakes,
Ludus,
Funky Four + One,
Index,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.