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 Guyana and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the jazz 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
T.S.O.L.,
Faraquet,
Kurtis Blow,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Barracudas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Vainqueur,
The Young Rascals,
Slave,
Minor Threat,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Simply Red,
Monks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
48th St. Collective,
Iggy Pop,
Connie Case,
Underground Resistance,
Glenn Branca,
Joey Negro,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
Yusef Lateef,
Lightning Bolt,
The Index,
Popol Vuh,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Vladislav Delay,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hasil Adkins,
Angry Samoans,
La Düsseldorf,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Chrome,
Thompson Twins,
Arab on Radar,
Pere Ubu,
Michelle Simonal,
Fluxion,
Niagra,
Ponytail,
Pussy Galore,
Robert Görl,
The Dead C,
Altered Images,
Mr. Review,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Robert Hood,
Dead Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Arcadia,
Scientists,
Intrusion,
DJ Style,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Music Machine,
Accadde A,
Roxy Music,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.