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 China and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Derrick Morgan to the funk 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Mo-Dettes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jacques Brel,
Kerrie Biddell,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cal Tjader,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Agent Orange,
Siglo XX,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers,
Magma,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
T. Rex,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kayak,
Dorothy Ashby,
Faust,
Country Teasers,
Camberwell Now,
The Motions,
The Move,
The Smiths,
Tubeway Army,
Radio Birdman,
David McCallum,
Radiopuhelimet,
Blancmange,
Shoche,
DNA,
Angry Samoans,
Boz Scaggs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Busters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jandek,
Sister Nancy,
Subhumans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
T.S.O.L.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Sonics,
Minny Pops,
D'Angelo,
New Order,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Grass Roots,
Ornette Coleman,
The Blues Magoos,
Sarah Menescal,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pagans,
Joy Division,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Happenings,
Television Personalities,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.