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 Bosnia Herzegovina 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Fluxion,
Agitation Free,
Lakeside,
Blake Baxter,
Sparks,
Royal Trux,
The Selecter,
Harry Pussy,
John Foxx,
Niagra,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Slits,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Thompson Twins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Divine Comedy,
Blancmange,
Prince Buster,
The Human League,
Tim Buckley,
Stetsasonic,
JFA,
OOIOO,
Hasil Adkins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anakelly,
Fad Gadget,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pulsallama,
Ten City,
Nick Fraelich,
The Tremeloes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roxette,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nik Kershaw,
The Pretty Things,
Michelle Simonal,
Funkadelic,
Jimmy McGriff,
48th St. Collective,
Whodini,
The Raincoats,
The Fire Engines,
Dawn Penn,
Charles Mingus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tres Demented,
The Monks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Livin' Joy,
The Gap Band,
Aswad,
The Stooges,
Oneida,
Jacques Brel,
Bob Dylan,
Crash Course in Science,
Jeff Mills,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.