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 Oman and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Slits to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Johnny Clarke,
Moss Icon,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pet Shop Boys,
Index,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bobby Womack,
Talk Talk,
AZ,
The Names,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barrington Levy,
Warsaw,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Robert Wyatt,
Kaleidoscope,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Inner City,
the Soft Cell,
Peter and Kerry,
Sound Behaviour,
Ronan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brick,
Deakin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Sherman,
Slick Rick,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anthony Braxton,
R.M.O.,
Monks,
Cluster,
Wolf Eyes,
ABBA,
Icehouse,
the Slits,
Neu!,
Pussy Galore,
The Martian,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blues Magoos,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scrapy,
Flash Fearless,
Cybotron,
Suburban Knight,
Reagan Youth,
Con Funk Shun,
Deepchord,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Sound,
Agent Orange,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.