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 Liberia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Andrew Hill to the punk 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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Music Machine,
The American Breed,
T.S.O.L.,
Eurythmics,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Echospace,
Idris Muhammad,
Ash Ra Tempel,
This Heat,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Model 500,
Jawbox,
Peter and Kerry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Tremeloes,
L. Decosne,
Neil Young,
Black Flag,
Easy Going,
Lebanon Hanover,
Josef K,
DJ Sneak,
Zero Boys,
Cal Tjader,
Bang On A Can,
Delon & Dalcan,
Roxette,
Skriet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Man Eating Sloth,
Schoolly D,
Anthony Braxton,
Anakelly,
The Pretty Things,
Big Daddy Kane,
Section 25,
Lou Reed,
the Association,
Bluetip,
Barbara Tucker,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Halsall,
World's Most,
The Slackers,
The Buckinghams,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Funkadelic,
Young Marble Giants,
Patti Smith,
Alphaville,
Tom Boy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Gap Band,
The Seeds,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.