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 Azerbaijan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the electroclash 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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare,
Minny Pops,
Con Funk Shun,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jacob Miller,
Cheater Slicks,
Deadbeat,
Tom Boy,
Little Man,
Hashim,
Funkadelic,
Stetsasonic,
The Vogues,
Average White Band,
The Wake,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cybotron,
The Blackbyrds,
World's Most,
One Last Wish,
The Fugs,
Hoover,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rakim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Juan Atkins,
David Bowie,
Boogie Down Productions,
Max Romeo,
Trumans Water,
Cymande,
Aloha Tigers,
The Gladiators,
The Busters,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Offenders,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chris Corsano,
Isaac Hayes,
the Human League,
Warsaw,
UT,
Amon Düül,
Jawbox,
Joe Smooth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Tremeloes,
Ituana,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Bar-Kays,
Iggy Pop,
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
Franke,
The Divine Comedy,
Jeff Mills,
Sister Nancy,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.