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 Bahrain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb 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 Toni Rubio to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
The Names,
Kool Moe Dee,
Peter & Gordon,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Modern Lovers,
Zapp,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Blues Magoos,
The Monochrome Set,
These Immortal Souls,
The Last Poets,
Groovy Waters,
The Gun Club,
Mary Jane Girls,
Quadrant,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Fugs,
Agent Orange,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nik Kershaw,
Henry Cow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pere Ubu,
Theoretical Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Standells,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Bar-Kays,
The Index,
Morten Harket,
Moby Grape,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Parry Music,
Boredoms,
Wire,
Avey Tare,
Quantec,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Birthday Party,
Soft Machine,
Neu!,
Quando Quango,
Black Flag,
Franke,
Joensuu 1685,
Kaleidoscope,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fugazi,
Organ,
Amazonics,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Cowsills,
Howard Jones,
Wally Richardson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radiopuhelimet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tubeway Army,
cv313,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.