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 Cambodia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Junior Murvin to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Harpers Bizarre,
F. McDonald,
The Fuzztones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Infiniti,
Piero Umiliani,
Metal Thangz,
The Dirtbombs,
Barrington Levy,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Remains,
Scan 7,
DNA,
David Bowie,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
Blancmange,
Arthur Verocai,
Joy Division,
UT,
Graham Central Station,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bill Wells,
Anthony Braxton,
Zapp,
Ultra Naté,
Suicide,
Q65,
K-Klass,
Bad Manners,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scientists,
Scratch Acid,
Delta 5,
Y Pants,
Jacques Brel,
Lucky Dragons,
Agent Orange,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fela Kuti,
Minnie Riperton,
Terrestrial Tones,
Maleditus Sound,
Janne Schatter,
Hasil Adkins,
Organ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Amazonics,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
The Fire Engines,
MDC,
The Gun Club,
Pussy Galore,
Spoonie Gee,
The Slackers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.