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 Bulgaria and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the techno 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
The Gladiators,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jacob Miller,
Gong,
The Modern Lovers,
Nico,
The Associates,
ABC,
Bobby Sherman,
Massinfluence,
Half Japanese,
Soft Cell,
Morten Harket,
Soft Machine,
John Lydon,
Icehouse,
John Foxx,
Sound Behaviour,
Tom Boy,
The Invisible,
Accadde A,
Sparks,
Fela Kuti,
X-101,
K-Klass,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Star Department,
The Fuzztones,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Connie Case,
Hardrive,
The Fall,
Terry Callier,
KRS-One,
Rotary Connection,
Pierre Henry,
The Slits,
Rufus Thomas,
Theoretical Girls,
Ice-T,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jacques Brel,
Kerrie Biddell,
Minutemen,
Guru Guru,
Mantronix,
Mo-Dettes,
Juan Atkins,
48th St. Collective,
The Stooges,
Man Parrish,
Fatback Band,
Moby Grape,
Echospace,
The Detroit Cobras,
Babytalk,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cramps,
Radiohead,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nik Kershaw,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.