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 Nauru and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
the Soft Cell,
Outsiders,
Al Stewart,
Gabor Szabo,
The Smiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Toni Rubio,
Thee Headcoats,
Lindisfarne,
Intrusion,
Carl Craig,
Max Romeo,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Offenders,
T. Rex,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
Hardrive,
Magma,
Laurel Aitken,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
This Heat,
Funkadelic,
Black Bananas,
Sandy B,
Unwound,
Gil Scott Heron,
DJ Sneak,
Rhythm & Sound,
Barrington Levy,
The Standells,
the Slits,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade,
Slick Rick,
Brick,
Jawbox,
Cecil Taylor,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arcadia,
Eric B and Rakim,
Derrick Morgan,
Fluxion,
Aloha Tigers,
Bush Tetras,
Talk Talk,
Skriet,
Barbara Tucker,
Graham Central Station,
Rapeman,
Boredoms,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Womack,
Smog,
Godley & Creme,
Johnny Clarke,
Terry Callier,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.