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 Guinea-Bissau and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mummies,
Scan 7,
Minny Pops,
PIL,
The Alarm Clocks,
Subhumans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thompson Twins,
DJ Style,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fall,
John Foxx,
Isaac Hayes,
Sugar Minott,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Walker Brothers,
Marc Almond,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Circle Jerks,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül II,
Donny Hathaway,
Desert Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rakim,
Jeff Mills,
The Knickerbockers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sarah Menescal,
Joe Smooth,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Green,
Throbbing Gristle,
K-Klass,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ronan,
Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lakeside,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dennis Brown,
Alice Coltrane,
Young Marble Giants,
UT,
Mr. Review,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Josef K,
Altered Images,
The Modern Lovers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Deadbeat,
E-Dancer,
Nico,
Suicide,
Sixth Finger,
Scott Walker,
Mantronix,
Roxette,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.