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 Denmark 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Gastr Del Sol to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
The Kinks,
The Happenings,
The Knickerbockers,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Byrd,
The Doors,
Motorama,
Jandek,
Pantaleimon,
Banda Bassotti,
Anthony Braxton,
Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scion,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Freddie Wadling,
The Slits,
Hardrive,
China Crisis,
Average White Band,
Sugar Minott,
Minnie Riperton,
Sixth Finger,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Massinfluence,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maleditus Sound,
Grandmaster Flash,
Organ,
Johnny Osbourne,
Technova,
The Litter,
John Cale,
Bluetip,
Neil Young,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Sherman,
The Dead C,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Young Rascals,
Symarip,
Crooked Eye,
Essential Logic,
Jawbox,
The Blues Magoos,
Chris & Cosey,
Todd Rundgren,
Subhumans,
Hashim,
June Days,
Cluster,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Isaac Hayes,
Patti Smith,
Skarface,
the Human League,
UT,
The Raincoats,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.