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 Fiji and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 Shanghai and Delhi.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rosa Yemen to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Albert Ayler,
Barrington Levy,
Scott Walker,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Saints,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sound,
Donald Byrd,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Echospace,
Silicon Teens,
The Vogues,
Pulsallama,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
FM Einheit,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
D'Angelo,
Yellowson,
Crooked Eye,
Von Mondo,
The Durutti Column,
The Walker Brothers,
Lightning Bolt,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Modern Lovers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gun Club,
Blake Baxter,
The Cramps,
Barbara Tucker,
Soul Sonic Force,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Talk Talk,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Babytalk,
Man Parrish,
Funkadelic,
Dead Boys,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Graham Central Station,
John Cale,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Misunderstood,
Lucky Dragons,
The Motions,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fuzztones,
The Zeros,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pretty Things,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fatback Band,
Cal Tjader,
Moss Icon,
Khruangbin,
Dark Day,
Sun Ra,
Erykah Badu,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.