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 Zimbabwe and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Red Krayola to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 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 marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Donald Byrd,
Harry Pussy,
UT,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun Ra,
Magma,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Sherman,
Davy DMX,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stetsasonic,
Pere Ubu,
Von Mondo,
Lou Reed,
Sam Rivers,
The Leaves,
Radiohead,
T.S.O.L.,
D'Angelo,
Zero Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mantronix,
Scratch Acid,
Jacques Brel,
Make Up,
Maleditus Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mark Hollis,
The Fuzztones,
Minnie Riperton,
Ice-T,
Rosa Yemen,
The Blues Magoos,
Dawn Penn,
Sugar Minott,
Sex Pistols,
Neil Young,
Eric Dolphy,
B.T. Express,
Josef K,
The Golliwogs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Basic Channel,
Skriet,
Rod Modell,
Prince Buster,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fire Engines,
Masters at Work,
Toni Rubio,
Don Cherry,
Deakin,
Rakim,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.