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 Albania and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scrapy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roger Hodgson,
Underground Resistance,
Radio Birdman,
Simply Red,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kas Product,
Sunsets and Hearts,
E-Dancer,
Vainqueur,
Soft Machine,
H. Thieme,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Anthony Braxton,
Sex Pistols,
Sparks,
Smog,
Panda Bear,
The Happenings,
Quadrant,
The Leaves,
The Sonics,
Magma,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kerri Chandler,
Brick,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Pus,
The Associates,
Rapeman,
John Lydon,
The Toasters,
The Detroit Cobras,
June of 44,
Maurizio,
Sister Nancy,
The Busters,
Kaleidoscope,
Groovy Waters,
The New Christs,
Alice Coltrane,
Al Stewart,
Audionom,
Junior Murvin,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Coltrane,
Peter and Kerry,
T.S.O.L.,
DJ Sneak,
The Music Machine,
Carl Craig,
Max Romeo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Archie Shepp,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.