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 Mauritius and from Stockholm.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Lalann to the punk 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Model 500,
Flipper,
Ultimate Spinach,
Main Source,
Harmonia,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The United States of America,
Circle Jerks,
Jeff Mills,
Monks,
Neil Young,
John Foxx,
Cal Tjader,
The Gun Club,
Deadbeat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Buzzcocks,
Patti Smith,
Fatback Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Niagra,
Pole,
Popol Vuh,
The Modern Lovers,
Zero Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Divine Comedy,
In Retrospect,
Man Parrish,
Josef K,
Index,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Victims,
The Beau Brummels,
Nas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Radio Birdman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eli Mardock,
Rosa Yemen,
The Moody Blues,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Shoche,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Guru Guru,
Q65,
Alton Ellis,
ABC,
Ponytail,
Eurythmics,
Nils Olav,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Soft Cell,
Faraquet,
Camouflage,
Nico,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.