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 Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Scratch Acid to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Oneida,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Theoretical Girls,
The Real Kids,
Das Ding,
Lakeside,
Rapeman,
Soulsonic Force,
Von Mondo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joy Division,
Loose Ends,
Altered Images,
Boredoms,
K-Klass,
The Divine Comedy,
Ken Boothe,
Soft Machine,
AZ,
Icehouse,
Roger Hodgson,
Ossler,
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
The United States of America,
Lee Hazlewood,
Flamin' Groovies,
Big Daddy Kane,
Goldenarms,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Sonics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wire,
Faraquet,
Aswad,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grey Daturas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Style,
Smog,
Q and Not U,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
F. McDonald,
John Coltrane,
Lalann,
The Searchers,
Camberwell Now,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Bananas,
Siglo XX,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Detroit Cobras,
Matthew Halsall,
Monks,
Japan,
Donald Byrd,
Supertramp,
DNA,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.