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 Malta and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Eve St. Jones to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Pole,
Marine Girls,
Moby Grape,
Blossom Toes,
Morten Harket,
Cymande,
Bluetip,
Roxette,
Aloha Tigers,
This Heat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Visage,
Jimmy McGriff,
Barbara Tucker,
Cal Tjader,
Ultimate Spinach,
Can,
Marmalade,
Crooked Eye,
The Seeds,
The Happenings,
Cameo,
Anthony Braxton,
Wire,
Harry Pussy,
Minor Threat,
Japan,
The Electric Prunes,
The Searchers,
Sound Behaviour,
Easy Going,
Aaron Thompson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soul II Soul,
Isaac Hayes,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Selecter,
The Five Americans,
Tears for Fears,
Scrapy,
The Cramps,
The Martian,
Blake Baxter,
The Doors,
Q65,
Ludus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terry Callier,
Brothers Johnson,
Metal Thangz,
Outsiders,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Trojans,
Sarah Menescal,
Kool Moe Dee,
EPMD,
Joey Negro,
Mary Jane Girls,
Henry Cow,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slick Rick,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.