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 Philippines and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Laurel Aitken to the dance 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
The Evens,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Toasters,
These Immortal Souls,
H. Thieme,
Lucky Dragons,
John Coltrane,
Ten City,
Pierre Henry,
Monolake,
Can,
Soulsonic Force,
Rosa Yemen,
The Detroit Cobras,
Matthew Halsall,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Swans,
Mantronix,
Yaz,
Minutemen,
The Martian,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mr. Review,
X-101,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick May,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
Sällskapet,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Livin' Joy,
Simply Red,
Soft Cell,
Sixth Finger,
Ultra Naté,
Aswad,
Japan,
The Victims,
The Selecter,
Talk Talk,
Camouflage,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sarah Menescal,
The Dirtbombs,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Flag,
Deepchord,
Max Romeo,
Radiopuhelimet,
The New Christs,
Country Teasers,
Radiohead,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Germs,
The Fall,
Deadbeat,
The Neon Judgement,
Circle Jerks,
Fad Gadget,
The Dave Clark Five,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.