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 Togo and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Ice-T to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
cv313,
Tim Buckley,
Charles Mingus,
Crooked Eye,
The Neon Judgement,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roy Ayers,
Andrew Hill,
The Modern Lovers,
Easy Going,
Agent Orange,
Al Stewart,
Minutemen,
Excepter,
The United States of America,
U.S. Maple,
Todd Rundgren,
Radiohead,
Flash Fearless,
The Young Rascals,
Rhythm & Sound,
Joensuu 1685,
X-102,
Motorama,
Yusef Lateef,
Mo-Dettes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crime,
Gregory Isaacs,
Das Ding,
Howard Jones,
Warren Ellis,
World's Most,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nirvana,
ABC,
The Cure,
Funkadelic,
Bootsy Collins,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gang Starr,
The Move,
Freddie Wadling,
Young Marble Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Terry Callier,
Qualms,
The Searchers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Moebius,
Stereo Dub,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Deepchord,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Steve Hackett,
Mr. Review,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.