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 Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Zero Boys,
Pantaleimon,
Tim Buckley,
Wings,
Quadrant,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Essential Logic,
Whodini,
Kool Moe Dee,
B.T. Express,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Harmonia,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Erasure,
Fela Kuti,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
Soft Machine,
In Retrospect,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Pretty Things,
The Tremeloes,
Index,
Derrick May,
FM Einheit,
Tears for Fears,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Angels of Light,
Alice Coltrane,
David Axelrod,
Josef K,
Goldenarms,
Arab on Radar,
Pussy Galore,
Don Cherry,
R.M.O.,
The Motions,
Simply Red,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Bananas,
The Fall,
Eric B and Rakim,
Country Teasers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Howard Jones,
The Golliwogs,
Rotary Connection,
Sight & Sound,
Excepter,
Guru Guru,
JFA,
Archie Shepp,
X-101,
Mad Mike,
Moby Grape,
CMW,
Livin' Joy,
Suburban Knight,
Scientists,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.