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 Seychelles and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barrington Levy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zero Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Harry Pussy,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Count Five,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Drexciya,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Yazoo,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
10cc,
Yusef Lateef,
Deepchord,
48th St. Collective,
Tubeway Army,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Saccharine Trust,
Crooked Eye,
Theoretical Girls,
Aural Exciters,
Fugazi,
Minutemen,
The Pretty Things,
The Kinks,
Public Enemy,
Rapeman,
Swans,
Joey Negro,
Cameo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ultravox,
Tres Demented,
Dark Day,
The Leaves,
Grey Daturas,
Pussy Galore,
The Blues Magoos,
Pole,
Echospace,
Supertramp,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
L. Decosne,
Trumans Water,
Joe Smooth,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Clear Light,
the Fania All-Stars,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fear,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fugs,
Black Pus,
Boz Scaggs,
The Monks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bootsy Collins,
Reagan Youth,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.