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 Honduras and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Curtis Mayfield to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
The Birthday Party,
Ultra Naté,
Whodini,
Sam Rivers,
Lakeside,
Byron Stingily,
Junior Murvin,
Bizarre Inc.,
T.S.O.L.,
These Immortal Souls,
Hot Snakes,
Basic Channel,
Swans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Animal Collective,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Metal Thangz,
Royal Trux,
Ultimate Spinach,
Electric Prunes,
Guru Guru,
Jerry's Kids,
The Last Poets,
L. Decosne,
Quadrant,
Magma,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Minny Pops,
Bootsy Collins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ituana,
Mantronix,
The Busters,
Motorama,
48th St. Collective,
Crash Course in Science,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Yusef Lateef,
The Kinks,
Morten Harket,
One Last Wish,
Cecil Taylor,
Technova,
The Smiths,
Sparks,
The American Breed,
Deepchord,
The Real Kids,
Yaz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boz Scaggs,
MC5,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Selecter,
the Association,
Tubeway Army,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Colin Newman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.