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 Somalia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin 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 Theoretical Girls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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 Flesh Eaters,
Flipper,
The Angels of Light,
The Stooges,
The Moody Blues,
Saccharine Trust,
Make Up,
Franke,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Chris Corsano,
10cc,
Index,
The Skatalites,
Faust,
The Barracudas,
Anthony Braxton,
The Slackers,
World's Most,
Tears for Fears,
Isaac Hayes,
Colin Newman,
The Techniques,
John Lydon,
Kerri Chandler,
Wire,
Black Flag,
Cal Tjader,
Monolake,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rapeman,
Suicide,
The Detroit Cobras,
Thompson Twins,
Letta Mbulu,
Crime,
Animal Collective,
Pulsallama,
Bobby Byrd,
Organ,
Sun City Girls,
Eden Ahbez,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cosmic Jokers,
B.T. Express,
Crispy Ambulance,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Foxx,
Tubeway Army,
The Modern Lovers,
Surgeon,
Tom Boy,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Birthday Party,
John Coltrane,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ultravox,
Maurizio,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.