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 Lebanon and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Scott Walker to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Monks,
Graham Central Station,
Bill Wells,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eric Copeland,
Drexciya,
Godley & Creme,
Avey Tare,
The Kinks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tres Demented,
Smog,
Carl Craig,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Das Ding,
Unwound,
Dead Boys,
Jacques Brel,
The Dirtbombs,
Can,
Siglo XX,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Frankie Knuckles,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sound Behaviour,
Max Romeo,
Crime,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Arab on Radar,
Jeff Mills,
Aaron Thompson,
Severed Heads,
Nik Kershaw,
Brick,
K-Klass,
Josef K,
X-Ray Spex,
Schoolly D,
Alphaville,
Y Pants,
Thompson Twins,
Dave Gahan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Young Rascals,
The Cramps,
Skaos,
Hot Snakes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barry Ungar,
Tropical Tobacco,
Donald Byrd,
Motorama,
Bluetip,
Yaz,
These Immortal Souls,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.