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 Barbados and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Con Funk Shun to the crunk 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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gap Band,
Bill Wells,
Deadbeat,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Electric Prunes,
Pylon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Music Machine,
Make Up,
Camouflage,
T. Rex,
The United States of America,
Malaria!,
Con Funk Shun,
Sparks,
The Cramps,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Red Krayola,
Das Ding,
Lou Christie,
Gabor Szabo,
Porter Ricks,
The Index,
Minor Threat,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fall,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Q65,
Adolescents,
The Monks,
The Litter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jerry's Kids,
Scion,
Pierre Henry,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Names,
Saccharine Trust,
Hashim,
Al Stewart,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mandrill,
Trumans Water,
Essential Logic,
Lindisfarne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Byrd,
Au Pairs,
Leonard Cohen,
Ornette Coleman,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cameo,
Blancmange,
Peter and Kerry,
Tres Demented,
Nils Olav,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Nico,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.