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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Byron Stingily to the dance 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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
David McCallum,
Max Romeo,
Connie Case,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Hashim,
DNA,
The Residents,
Barry Ungar,
Skriet,
Agent Orange,
Dead Boys,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Althea and Donna,
Prince Buster,
DJ Sneak,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Sheep,
Boredoms,
The Pop Group,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Velvet Underground,
Quantec,
Ken Boothe,
Von Mondo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Fat Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
The Vogues,
Howard Jones,
Severed Heads,
Bill Near,
The Gories,
Pierre Henry,
The Knickerbockers,
Ituana,
The Walker Brothers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lightning Bolt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Fugazi,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Görl,
Barrington Levy,
Schoolly D,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minnie Riperton,
Tom Boy,
DJ Style,
Excepter,
Moby Grape,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Goldenarms,
Fear,
The Busters,
H. Thieme,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.