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 Niger and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Holger Czukay 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 Make Up to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Das Ding,
Young Marble Giants,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Names,
The Cosmic Jokers,
T. Rex,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Bar-Kays,
Fad Gadget,
Jerry's Kids,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Oneida,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Second Layer,
Kurtis Blow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Iggy Pop,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Organ,
Kerri Chandler,
Severed Heads,
Byron Stingily,
Easy Going,
Juan Atkins,
Hot Snakes,
Charles Mingus,
the Soft Cell,
The Litter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mars,
Don Cherry,
The Blackbyrds,
Alton Ellis,
The Tremeloes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Slits,
Dawn Penn,
Isaac Hayes,
Man Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Babytalk,
Susan Cadogan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Motorama,
Thompson Twins,
Warsaw,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobby Byrd,
The Victims,
Nation of Ulysses,
Main Source,
the Normal,
Bill Wells,
Neu!,
Brothers Johnson,
Hasil Adkins,
48th St. Collective,
Joey Negro,
Agent Orange,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.