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 Brazil and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 rhodes 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 Don Cherry to the crunk 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Quadrant,
Bootsy Collins,
Leonard Cohen,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Real Kids,
The Durutti Column,
Vainqueur,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Neon Judgement,
Public Enemy,
Black Flag,
John Cale,
One Last Wish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Soulsonic Force,
Radiopuhelimet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Johnny Clarke,
Warren Ellis,
The Mummies,
Sparks,
The American Breed,
The Names,
Darondo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Heaven 17,
The Evens,
FM Einheit,
Johnny Osbourne,
Index,
Lucky Dragons,
The Index,
Pantaleimon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Youth Brigade,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Can,
Shuggie Otis,
Nils Olav,
Warsaw,
The Pretty Things,
AZ,
Lyres,
Pere Ubu,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Newcleus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Albert Ayler,
The Victims,
Aural Exciters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bob Dylan,
Fugazi,
Althea and Donna,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yazoo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rosa Yemen,
Wasted Youth,
Idris Muhammad,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.