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 Zambia and from Beijing.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Kerri Chandler to the crunk 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Standells,
Mr. Review,
The Buckinghams,
The Victims,
Scion,
Roger Hodgson,
the Normal,
Bauhaus,
Tom Boy,
Fatback Band,
Moss Icon,
Dennis Brown,
Eli Mardock,
The Detroit Cobras,
Saccharine Trust,
Adolescents,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Swans,
June Days,
Charles Mingus,
the Association,
Panda Bear,
Stereo Dub,
The Offenders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Flash Fearless,
Black Flag,
Mars,
Aloha Tigers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Al Stewart,
Section 25,
The Busters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Throbbing Gristle,
Radiohead,
Agent Orange,
John Lydon,
Marmalade,
Public Enemy,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Ken Boothe,
Sugar Minott,
Silicon Teens,
Morten Harket,
The Moody Blues,
Bootsy Collins,
The Neon Judgement,
Livin' Joy,
The Star Department,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sun City Girls,
Marine Girls,
Rod Modell,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nik Kershaw,
the Germs,
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.