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 Belize and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Tubeway Army to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Joe Finger,
Bauhaus,
Pagans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mars,
Scratch Acid,
Idris Muhammad,
Arthur Verocai,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lou Reed,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Toni Rubio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Q and Not U,
The Fugs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arab on Radar,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Alphaville,
Model 500,
Black Pus,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marvin Gaye,
the Bar-Kays,
the Normal,
Thompson Twins,
The Golliwogs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Don Cherry,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nirvana,
Supertramp,
Sonny Sharrock,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
Tim Buckley,
Simply Red,
FM Einheit,
Parry Music,
Nils Olav,
Metal Thangz,
10cc,
Index,
Gang Green,
Harry Pussy,
The Beau Brummels,
Avey Tare,
Minnie Riperton,
Technova,
John Holt,
The Slackers,
Pierre Henry,
London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir.
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.