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 Dominican Republic and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Motorama to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Busters,
Bang On A Can,
June Days,
Stiv Bators,
Cecil Taylor,
Bronski Beat,
The Moody Blues,
Nik Kershaw,
Ornette Coleman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marc Almond,
Echospace,
Aloha Tigers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
R.M.O.,
X-Ray Spex,
Circle Jerks,
June of 44,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barry Ungar,
Das Ding,
Eden Ahbez,
Grey Daturas,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fortunes,
The Angels of Light,
Curtis Mayfield,
Brass Construction,
Kenny Larkin,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bill Wells,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cure,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fall,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Public Enemy,
Joe Finger,
Aswad,
Fela Kuti,
Camberwell Now,
David McCallum,
Erasure,
Country Joe & The Fish,
John Foxx,
Deepchord,
Black Moon,
Newcleus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Young Rascals,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Divine Comedy,
Au Pairs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soft Machine,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ossler,
Suicide,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.