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 Guyana and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Boz Scaggs to the grunge 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ultravox,
The Evens,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Harmonia,
the Fania All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Bob Dylan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Au Pairs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Todd Rundgren,
John Holt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harry Pussy,
Mark Hollis,
The American Breed,
Girls At Our Best!,
Maleditus Sound,
Grauzone,
Ornette Coleman,
Max Romeo,
Cymande,
Joey Negro,
Monolake,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeff Mills,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Donald Byrd,
cv313,
Piero Umiliani,
Mr. Review,
Chris & Cosey,
Michelle Simonal,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Country Teasers,
Kas Product,
Silicon Teens,
Byron Stingily,
Sun City Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dawn Penn,
The Smoke,
Agitation Free,
La Düsseldorf,
Make Up,
Bush Tetras,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Beau Brummels,
Warren Ellis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Metal Thangz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.