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 Swaziland 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Milan.
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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Detroit Cobras to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Simply Red,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Suicide,
Ituana,
Ice-T,
Cheater Slicks,
Urselle,
Barrington Levy,
a-ha,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
the Slits,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Last Poets,
In Retrospect,
Harmonia,
The Slackers,
Black Flag,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stiv Bators,
Aswad,
The Barracudas,
Fat Boys,
Ornette Coleman,
Smog,
Warsaw,
John Lydon,
Babytalk,
Audionom,
Delon & Dalcan,
Boz Scaggs,
Charles Mingus,
The Kinks,
LL Cool J,
Nils Olav,
DJ Sneak,
Yellowson,
The Blackbyrds,
Chris & Cosey,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
These Immortal Souls,
Bill Near,
Toni Rubio,
The Cowsills,
The Index,
Barbara Tucker,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeff Mills,
The Dirtbombs,
Agitation Free,
DNA,
Bad Manners,
The Moleskins,
The Gories,
MC5,
June Days,
Roxy Music,
Bauhaus,
H. Thieme,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.