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 Seychelles and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 linndrum 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Faraquet,
the Swans,
The Kinks,
Robert Wyatt,
Kas Product,
Funky Four + One,
Ronan,
Soft Cell,
Suburban Knight,
The Offenders,
T. Rex,
Faust,
Charles Mingus,
The Grass Roots,
Anthony Braxton,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Guru Guru,
Delta 5,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Public Enemy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Interpol,
Tim Buckley,
Peter and Kerry,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Pus,
Ohio Players,
Mission of Burma,
Tom Boy,
Eric Dolphy,
Minutemen,
Popol Vuh,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fela Kuti,
Mr. Review,
Camberwell Now,
Mary Jane Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sonics,
Bob Dylan,
The Dirtbombs,
Man Parrish,
Boredoms,
Radio Birdman,
Cameo,
Hardrive,
MC5,
Ronnie Foster,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Circle Jerks,
the Bar-Kays,
Skriet,
Andrew Hill,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Young Marble Giants,
Eve St. Jones,
Lalann,
ABBA,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.