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 Mauritius and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lagos.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kango’s Stein Massive 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
8 Eyed Spy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Prince Buster,
New York Dolls,
World's Most,
Malaria!,
Symarip,
Oblivians,
Mandrill,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wally Richardson,
Joyce Sims,
John Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Second Layer,
the Swans,
Underground Resistance,
E-Dancer,
The Sonics,
Glenn Branca,
Panda Bear,
Pierre Henry,
Royal Trux,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
PIL,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bauhaus,
Crime,
The Slackers,
The Stooges,
Black Bananas,
The Gap Band,
ABC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pet Shop Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crash Course in Science,
Iggy Pop,
David McCallum,
10cc,
kango's stein massive,
John Cale,
Cheater Slicks,
Patti Smith,
The Moleskins,
Country Teasers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Moby Grape,
Joensuu 1685,
The Last Poets,
Man Parrish,
Altered Images,
The Golliwogs,
DJ Style,
Gong,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.