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 Australia and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Siglo XX to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe 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 güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Kayak,
The Dead C,
K-Klass,
The Monks,
Fluxion,
Talk Talk,
Trumans Water,
Susan Cadogan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Angry Samoans,
Intrusion,
Subhumans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scrapy,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aaron Thompson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bush Tetras,
The Count Five,
The Modern Lovers,
E-Dancer,
Quadrant,
Lucky Dragons,
Leonard Cohen,
Arcadia,
Saccharine Trust,
Steve Hackett,
the Germs,
Fatback Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Groovy Waters,
These Immortal Souls,
Ronan,
Brothers Johnson,
The Doors,
Joyce Sims,
Morten Harket,
Bauhaus,
The Standells,
Severed Heads,
The Golliwogs,
Stereo Dub,
Can,
Jacob Miller,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Buzzcocks,
Lower 48,
Davy DMX,
Guru Guru,
Man Parrish,
Motorama,
Matthew Halsall,
Scion,
R.M.O.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Lydon,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.