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 Cuba and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Cecil Taylor to the rock 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Mission of Burma,
The Dirtbombs,
ABBA,
Steve Hackett,
X-Ray Spex,
Deepchord,
The Real Kids,
Nils Olav,
Agitation Free,
Rapeman,
Black Pus,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fatback Band,
Neu!,
The Black Dice,
Second Layer,
Con Funk Shun,
The Wake,
The Young Rascals,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crash Course in Science,
Adolescents,
Connie Case,
Fluxion,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Henry Cow,
Malaria!,
Bluetip,
Wasted Youth,
Au Pairs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Little Man,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cramps,
Electric Prunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Machine,
The Cowsills,
Essential Logic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Funky Four + One,
Theoretical Girls,
Radio Birdman,
The Misunderstood,
John Cale,
Y Pants,
Freddie Wadling,
Monolake,
DJ Sneak,
LL Cool J,
Wolf Eyes,
Angry Samoans,
Japan,
Technova,
Marvin Gaye,
Eden Ahbez,
Depeche Mode,
Tim Buckley,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Mills,
The Martian,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.