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 Mongolia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes 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 Little Man to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Groovy Waters,
Visage,
The Busters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cal Tjader,
The Electric Prunes,
Faust,
Mad Mike,
JFA,
Roy Ayers,
Kayak,
Deadbeat,
The Cramps,
MC5,
Camberwell Now,
Pierre Henry,
Surgeon,
Amazonics,
Panda Bear,
Arthur Verocai,
Chris Corsano,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Spandau Ballet,
Prince Buster,
the Soft Cell,
Sarah Menescal,
Ronan,
The Fugs,
Zero Boys,
Rekid,
Kurtis Blow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
David Bowie,
Fear,
Electric Prunes,
Erasure,
These Immortal Souls,
AZ,
Big Daddy Kane,
Junior Murvin,
Anakelly,
Chrome,
Letta Mbulu,
June Days,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fluxion,
Pantaleimon,
E-Dancer,
EPMD,
Sugar Minott,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wire,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pulsallama,
Shuggie Otis,
Yellowson,
Livin' Joy,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.