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 Finland and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
The Gladiators,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joy Division,
The Move,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
World's Most,
Maurizio,
Hardrive,
In Retrospect,
Sun Ra,
The Divine Comedy,
Peter & Gordon,
The Five Americans,
The Gories,
Boogie Down Productions,
Scratch Acid,
Unrelated Segments,
Jerry's Kids,
John Coltrane,
Surgeon,
The Smiths,
John Holt,
The Flesh Eaters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Khruangbin,
Lucky Dragons,
Gong,
Blossom Toes,
Main Source,
Marshall Jefferson,
R.M.O.,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Techniques,
Kaleidoscope,
Agent Orange,
Eli Mardock,
Jacques Brel,
Howard Jones,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
New York Dolls,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dirtbombs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Smoke,
The Young Rascals,
Reuben Wilson,
Moby Grape,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yaz,
Andrew Hill,
Amazonics,
Gang of Four,
AZ,
Brass Construction,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jandek,
Scientists,
Black Pus,
Amon Düül II,
June Days,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.