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 Papua New Guinea and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Rotary Connection,
the Normal,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Davy DMX,
Robert Wyatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eddi Front,
Monolake,
Fugazi,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nico,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pierre Henry,
Bang On A Can,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kenny Larkin,
Soul II Soul,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Toasters,
Donald Byrd,
Jerry's Kids,
Wolf Eyes,
The Buckinghams,
Tim Buckley,
The United States of America,
Khruangbin,
T. Rex,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tears for Fears,
Todd Terry,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Pretty Things,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tommy Roe,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang of Four,
Boogie Down Productions,
Groovy Waters,
The Music Machine,
the Slits,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
June of 44,
Q65,
Thompson Twins,
James White and The Blacks,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Blackbyrds,
Alice Coltrane,
D'Angelo,
Brick,
Rosa Yemen,
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
Pet Shop Boys,
Arcadia,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.