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 Austria and from Halifax.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Malaria! to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Eddi Front,
Television,
Stockholm Monsters,
Reagan Youth,
The Misunderstood,
Althea and Donna,
Animal Collective,
Suicide,
Sarah Menescal,
The Selecter,
The Skatalites,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mantronix,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Letta Mbulu,
Mad Mike,
The Residents,
Intrusion,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mission of Burma,
Liliput,
Janne Schatter,
Pere Ubu,
Fatback Band,
Theoretical Girls,
MC5,
Jacques Brel,
Bang On A Can,
Excepter,
Lightning Bolt,
Brass Construction,
the Bar-Kays,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Girls At Our Best!,
World's Most,
The New Christs,
Darondo,
Scion,
Faraquet,
cv313,
Kas Product,
The Tremeloes,
The Real Kids,
Harpers Bizarre,
Visage,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
One Last Wish,
The Divine Comedy,
Maleditus Sound,
Sandy B,
Roxy Music,
Smog,
Fort Wilson Riot,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Can,
June Days,
Tubeway Army,
X-Ray Spex,
Ludus,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.