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 Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 organ 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 Doors to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Sandy B,
Theoretical Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Moody Blues,
Pagans,
Slave,
John Foxx,
Blossom Toes,
Toni Rubio,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
Camberwell Now,
Arab on Radar,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kayak,
The Sonics,
The Five Americans,
The Fire Engines,
David Axelrod,
The Zeros,
DNA,
The New Christs,
Aloha Tigers,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Smiths,
Swell Maps,
The Monks,
Warsaw,
Q65,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Skatalites,
Marine Girls,
Blake Baxter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ultra Naté,
Quando Quango,
The Techniques,
Connie Case,
The Trojans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Albert Ayler,
Thee Headcoats,
Skarface,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marc Almond,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tubeway Army,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pylon,
U.S. Maple,
Pulsallama,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Man Parrish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Martian,
Kaleidoscope,
the Swans,
Saccharine Trust,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.