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 Brunei and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Toronto.
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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 JFA to the grunge 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Andrew Hill,
B.T. Express,
The Cure,
Section 25,
Alison Limerick,
Buzzcocks,
Kurtis Blow,
Donald Byrd,
Quando Quango,
Connie Case,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
Sandy B,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Monks,
Faraquet,
Eden Ahbez,
John Foxx,
Rapeman,
Pussy Galore,
Vainqueur,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Sheep,
The Busters,
Gang Green,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Raincoats,
Guru Guru,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Skarface,
Joe Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
X-Ray Spex,
A Certain Ratio,
The Toasters,
Ludus,
In Retrospect,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Josef K,
Girls At Our Best!,
Morten Harket,
Stockholm Monsters,
Robert Hood,
Severed Heads,
Talk Talk,
Desert Stars,
Jacques Brel,
The United States of America,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Count Five,
Nik Kershaw,
MDC,
Franke,
The Skatalites,
The Buckinghams,
The Grass Roots,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.