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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
The American Breed,
Masters at Work,
Kurtis Blow,
MC5,
Metal Thangz,
Al Stewart,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Make Up,
Cluster,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Germs,
B.T. Express,
The Trojans,
Mandrill,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Oblivians,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dave Gahan,
Pole,
Robert Görl,
Drive Like Jehu,
Avey Tare,
Tears for Fears,
Circle Jerks,
Warsaw,
Minor Threat,
Brick,
Rosa Yemen,
The Saints,
The Buckinghams,
Ossler,
Babytalk,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eli Mardock,
Skarface,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crooked Eye,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kerrie Biddell,
Althea and Donna,
Shuggie Otis,
DNA,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gladiators,
Nils Olav,
Mad Mike,
Amon Düül II,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pantytec,
Severed Heads,
Nation of Ulysses,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dennis Brown,
The Five Americans,
Tom Boy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Selecter,
The Real Kids,
David Bowie,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.