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 Vietnam and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Y Pants to the techno 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Barry Ungar,
Cal Tjader,
The Move,
Sparks,
Harry Pussy,
Patti Smith,
The Gap Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Soul II Soul,
The Leaves,
CMW,
R.M.O.,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
Goldenarms,
Yaz,
Massinfluence,
Chris Corsano,
Fluxion,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Erasure,
Tropical Tobacco,
Spoonie Gee,
Shuggie Otis,
Buzzcocks,
Inner City,
The Human League,
Loose Ends,
Deepchord,
The Last Poets,
New York Dolls,
Bauhaus,
Skaos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cowsills,
The Cramps,
Terry Callier,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scratch Acid,
Aswad,
Altered Images,
Simply Red,
Eurythmics,
Carl Craig,
Eve St. Jones,
The Selecter,
Nas,
Das Ding,
Joe Finger,
Television Personalities,
Fela Kuti,
EPMD,
Von Mondo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cecil Taylor,
Cybotron,
Susan Cadogan,
Aaron Thompson,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.