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 Kiribati and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the techno 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
The Sonics,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fortunes,
Soulsonic Force,
Buzzcocks,
Panda Bear,
Kaleidoscope,
H. Thieme,
Parry Music,
Thompson Twins,
Tubeway Army,
T.S.O.L.,
Liliput,
Maurizio,
Terrestrial Tones,
Matthew Bourne,
Flipper,
In Retrospect,
The Cramps,
Zero Boys,
Youth Brigade,
The Trojans,
Jacques Brel,
Skarface,
The Modern Lovers,
Dennis Brown,
UT,
T. Rex,
Cameo,
Black Pus,
Mad Mike,
Intrusion,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Negative Approach,
Bush Tetras,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gladiators,
Yellowson,
Sixth Finger,
The Residents,
The Searchers,
The Electric Prunes,
Crash Course in Science,
Das Ding,
Deadbeat,
Erasure,
Sun Ra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Sandy B,
Sun City Girls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
L. Decosne,
the Swans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Oblivians,
Dorothy Ashby,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.