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 Papua New Guinea and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Michelle Simonal to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Brick,
The Evens,
The Names,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dead Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cameo,
The Last Poets,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lou Christie,
Danielle Patucci,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fire Engines,
Buzzcocks,
The Star Department,
Amon Düül II,
The Move,
The Music Machine,
Peter and Kerry,
Wasted Youth,
Laurel Aitken,
This Heat,
New Order,
The Leaves,
R.M.O.,
Urselle,
Sister Nancy,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Dirtbombs,
Echospace,
John Lydon,
Liliput,
Funky Four + One,
Aural Exciters,
The Human League,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Zapp,
U.S. Maple,
Babytalk,
Isaac Hayes,
Lower 48,
T.S.O.L.,
Amon Düül,
Sight & Sound,
the Germs,
Skarface,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun Ra,
Mantronix,
Scott Walker,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Al Stewart,
Jeff Lynne,
Heaven 17,
The Residents,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wally Richardson,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.