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 Korea South and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the dance 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Avey Tare,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eve St. Jones,
Blancmange,
Sarah Menescal,
Supertramp,
The Five Americans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultra Naté,
Flash Fearless,
Khruangbin,
Kool Moe Dee,
Desert Stars,
D'Angelo,
Television,
Gil Scott Heron,
AZ,
Bob Dylan,
The Martian,
Joey Negro,
Cluster,
Lucky Dragons,
Smog,
Jandek,
Rotary Connection,
The Index,
Byron Stingily,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Visage,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Average White Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Crime,
Bobby Womack,
Hoover,
The Flesh Eaters,
June of 44,
Sandy B,
the Slits,
Maleditus Sound,
Dark Day,
Q65,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Brand Nubian,
Susan Cadogan,
Gong,
Cal Tjader,
FM Einheit,
Half Japanese,
Nas,
F. McDonald,
the Association,
Steve Hackett,
Brick,
PIL,
New York Dolls,
Reagan Youth,
Warren Ellis,
Parry Music,
Dual Sessions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago.
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.