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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bang On A Can,
Ludus,
B.T. Express,
The Martian,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Derrick May,
Blossom Toes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hashim,
Jerry's Kids,
Crooked Eye,
A Certain Ratio,
Sister Nancy,
Whodini,
Metal Thangz,
The Victims,
The Fire Engines,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Brick,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joey Negro,
Matthew Bourne,
Radio Birdman,
AZ,
Moss Icon,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Womack,
The Stooges,
Alphaville,
Amazonics,
Mars,
the Swans,
X-Ray Spex,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Goldenarms,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Cale,
Harry Pussy,
Maleditus Sound,
La Düsseldorf,
Fugazi,
Soulsonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
Cymande,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Red Krayola,
Black Moon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Soft Cell,
Q65,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
L. Decosne,
Peter & Gordon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
T.S.O.L.,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.