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 Haiti and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Nile Rodgers 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 New Age Steppers to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Guru Guru,
The Gladiators,
Silicon Teens,
Aural Exciters,
Funky Four + One,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Infiniti,
Crime,
Albert Ayler,
Eric B and Rakim,
Radio Birdman,
The Birthday Party,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fluxion,
Danielle Patucci,
Icehouse,
The J.B.'s,
Severed Heads,
DNA,
Hashim,
Con Funk Shun,
U.S. Maple,
Henry Cow,
New Age Steppers,
Sam Rivers,
MC5,
Tres Demented,
Bob Dylan,
Mr. Review,
Gang Gang Dance,
Charles Mingus,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
New York Dolls,
Ponytail,
Dual Sessions,
These Immortal Souls,
Suicide,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tom Boy,
Barrington Levy,
Ultravox,
Model 500,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Simply Red,
Fear,
Joe Finger,
Ronnie Foster,
Unrelated Segments,
The Dead C,
Warren Ellis,
Rod Modell,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crooked Eye,
Main Source,
Stiv Bators,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
The Knickerbockers,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Index,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.