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 Jordan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord 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 Dirtbombs to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Livin' Joy,
DJ Style,
Jawbox,
The Birthday Party,
The Monochrome Set,
Banda Bassotti,
The Slits,
Soulsonic Force,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Mummies,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marshall Jefferson,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Moon,
June of 44,
Sex Pistols,
The Fall,
Hot Snakes,
Brick,
X-Ray Spex,
Heaven 17,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tubeway Army,
Thee Headcoats,
Bad Manners,
The Zeros,
Juan Atkins,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ronan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Association,
The Durutti Column,
The Velvet Underground,
Tres Demented,
Funky Four + One,
Warren Ellis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mandrill,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bang On A Can,
Grey Daturas,
Vladislav Delay,
The Star Department,
Symarip,
Zapp,
Gang Gang Dance,
Anthony Braxton,
The New Christs,
Magazine,
Half Japanese,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bill Wells,
the Germs,
Tim Buckley,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.