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 Chile and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wolf Eyes to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Fat Boys,
Todd Terry,
Monks,
The Gladiators,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Model 500,
Hot Snakes,
Duran Duran,
The Black Dice,
8 Eyed Spy,
Albert Ayler,
Moby Grape,
Derrick Morgan,
Moss Icon,
Nils Olav,
Skriet,
Lightning Bolt,
Marc Almond,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Echospace,
Roxy Music,
kango's stein massive,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Holt,
Gong,
Yazoo,
Average White Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Alarm Clocks,
Aural Exciters,
David Bowie,
Marine Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Robert Wyatt,
Mad Mike,
Eli Mardock,
Joyce Sims,
Kaleidoscope,
World's Most,
Soft Machine,
Radiohead,
Trumans Water,
Warsaw,
Joensuu 1685,
Ohio Players,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mummies,
Babytalk,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Standells,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.