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 Solomon Islands and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the crunk 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gories,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
Deepchord,
Wire,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Monks,
The Litter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bootsy Collins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The New Christs,
Siglo XX,
Rufus Thomas,
Cameo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Pretty Things,
Donny Hathaway,
Lou Reed,
Soul II Soul,
Sam Rivers,
cv313,
Make Up,
Ken Boothe,
Heaven 17,
Ralphi Rosario,
H. Thieme,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Excepter,
The Tremeloes,
Soft Cell,
Fear,
Echospace,
Radio Birdman,
Icehouse,
The Walker Brothers,
Easy Going,
Eric Copeland,
Faraquet,
Fela Kuti,
the Swans,
The Motions,
Urselle,
Pere Ubu,
Unrelated Segments,
The Associates,
Model 500,
kango's stein massive,
The Barracudas,
This Heat,
Erasure,
Dead Boys,
Arthur Verocai,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Soulsonic Force,
Bang On A Can,
Sun City Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
La Düsseldorf,
Ossler,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.