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 El Salvador and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the grime 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The New Christs,
Bobby Womack,
Tim Buckley,
Yellowson,
Thee Headcoats,
the Germs,
Icehouse,
Patti Smith,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bush Tetras,
The Buckinghams,
Hashim,
Stereo Dub,
Public Enemy,
Funkadelic,
Massinfluence,
Arab on Radar,
David Bowie,
Pylon,
Ossler,
Moebius,
Rosa Yemen,
Skriet,
The Doobie Brothers,
Anakelly,
Sam Rivers,
The Move,
Jacob Miller,
Scratch Acid,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Goldenarms,
The Red Krayola,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Desert Stars,
Fear,
Half Japanese,
Blancmange,
Hot Snakes,
Fela Kuti,
Juan Atkins,
Lightning Bolt,
Silicon Teens,
One Last Wish,
Wasted Youth,
Gong,
Television,
Jandek,
New Order,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Knickerbockers,
The Kinks,
The Golliwogs,
The Pop Group,
Fat Boys,
Pierre Henry,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
The Happenings,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.