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 Comoros 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Wake to the disco 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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
A Certain Ratio,
The Pretty Things,
The Young Rascals,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alison Limerick,
This Heat,
Slick Rick,
Subhumans,
B.T. Express,
Sam Rivers,
The Walker Brothers,
Crispian St. Peters,
CMW,
Make Up,
Desert Stars,
The American Breed,
Agent Orange,
the Normal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Flipper,
Radio Birdman,
Talk Talk,
Maleditus Sound,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sun City Girls,
Tommy Roe,
Blossom Toes,
Chris Corsano,
Lindisfarne,
Hot Snakes,
Roy Ayers,
Sandy B,
Boogie Down Productions,
Masters at Work,
The Names,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Durutti Column,
Rod Modell,
Electric Prunes,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Sherman,
Schoolly D,
Eli Mardock,
Sparks,
Outsiders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Minutemen,
The Sonics,
Crash Course in Science,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grandmaster Flash,
Leonard Cohen,
The Pop Group,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minor Threat,
Mark Hollis,
48th St. Collective,
Negative Approach,
Aaron Thompson,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.