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 Italy and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
MDC,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
U.S. Maple,
the Fania All-Stars,
Whodini,
Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol,
Outsiders,
Eddi Front,
Harry Pussy,
The Velvet Underground,
The Pretty Things,
Jeff Mills,
Marcia Griffiths,
Roger Hodgson,
The Red Krayola,
Little Man,
Reuben Wilson,
Pole,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scott Walker,
Duran Duran,
K-Klass,
Lyres,
The Angels of Light,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Reed,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hoover,
B.T. Express,
Crash Course in Science,
Pylon,
Urselle,
the Germs,
The Gories,
Mars,
Pantytec,
Lucky Dragons,
Procol Harum,
Zero Boys,
Depeche Mode,
The Fire Engines,
Glenn Branca,
The Flesh Eaters,
Symarip,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Albert Ayler,
Bauhaus,
The Grass Roots,
Kerri Chandler,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Reagan Youth,
Janne Schatter,
Jawbox,
Patti Smith,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minny Pops,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.