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 Korea North and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Crispian St. Peters 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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Monks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Chrome,
The Red Krayola,
Harry Pussy,
Television,
The Sound,
Supertramp,
Flash Fearless,
Magma,
Tropical Tobacco,
Grauzone,
The Count Five,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wasted Youth,
The Pretty Things,
Alice Coltrane,
Sonic Youth,
Brass Construction,
New York Dolls,
Frankie Knuckles,
John Holt,
Youth Brigade,
Circle Jerks,
The Offenders,
Icehouse,
Rites of Spring,
Bronski Beat,
Joe Finger,
Marc Almond,
Hot Snakes,
R.M.O.,
Deepchord,
Patti Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Stiv Bators,
The Gories,
U.S. Maple,
Moby Grape,
Davy DMX,
Lalann,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Searchers,
Peter & Gordon,
The Gun Club,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Neon Judgement,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gladiators,
Fad Gadget,
Newcleus,
Boredoms,
The Golliwogs,
Donny Hathaway,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.