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 Togo and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 sitar 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 Buzzcocks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Black Moon,
Mark Hollis,
The Victims,
Steve Hackett,
Television Personalities,
Cal Tjader,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Blackbyrds,
Pere Ubu,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Robert Hood,
Electric Prunes,
Pulsallama,
Radiohead,
Popol Vuh,
Essential Logic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Don Cherry,
The Trojans,
Groovy Waters,
David Axelrod,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Technova,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gang of Four,
The Young Rascals,
Gang Starr,
Bill Near,
Blancmange,
Nirvana,
Harry Pussy,
Judy Mowatt,
Eli Mardock,
Marc Almond,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Reed,
Audionom,
Dorothy Ashby,
Von Mondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Dead Boys,
The Knickerbockers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Joey Negro,
Alice Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Desert Stars,
The Electric Prunes,
The Zeros,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eurythmics,
Mars,
Porter Ricks,
Jacques Brel,
Eric B and Rakim,
CMW,
Terry Callier,
The Blues Magoos,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.