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 Venezuela and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Names to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Buzzcocks,
Gang Starr,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dawn Penn,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker,
Absolute Body Control,
The Fall,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Angels of Light,
The Young Rascals,
The Moody Blues,
Hot Snakes,
the Slits,
Donny Hathaway,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Shoche,
Quadrant,
Leonard Cohen,
Sixth Finger,
Organ,
Sun Ra,
Siglo XX,
Popol Vuh,
Faust,
Reagan Youth,
Lalann,
Eve St. Jones,
Peter and Kerry,
FM Einheit,
Dead Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
Funkadelic,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Seeds,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monks,
Ludus,
The Cure,
Motorama,
Judy Mowatt,
Barrington Levy,
Royal Trux,
Arthur Verocai,
Cameo,
Fugazi,
Aural Exciters,
Trumans Water,
The Zeros,
Patti Smith,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Bar-Kays,
Max Romeo,
Rufus Thomas,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.