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 Brunei and from Delhi.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet 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 The Litter to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
New Age Steppers,
The Last Poets,
Joy Division,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yellowson,
Thompson Twins,
Throbbing Gristle,
The United States of America,
Inner City,
Metal Thangz,
Soft Machine,
the Swans,
Harmonia,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harpers Bizarre,
Spandau Ballet,
Prince Buster,
Flipper,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Erasure,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marcia Griffiths,
China Crisis,
Moebius,
Bang On A Can,
Hoover,
Icehouse,
Blancmange,
The Detroit Cobras,
Davy DMX,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Brand Nubian,
ABBA,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
World's Most,
T.S.O.L.,
The Saints,
Donald Byrd,
Ultravox,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lindisfarne,
Soft Cell,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Simply Red,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minny Pops,
The Mojo Men,
Jacques Brel,
Nick Fraelich,
Visage,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
Suicide,
Man Eating Sloth,
Radiohead,
Television Personalities,
Dawn Penn,
The Mummies,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.