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 Costa Rica and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Angry Samoans to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Soft Cell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Q and Not U,
Nico,
One Last Wish,
Audionom,
The United States of America,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Q65,
These Immortal Souls,
Lungfish,
Donald Byrd,
Hasil Adkins,
Khruangbin,
John Cale,
Royal Trux,
David Axelrod,
Gichy Dan,
The Buckinghams,
Deepchord,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Birthday Party,
Letta Mbulu,
Jandek,
Chrome,
Ice-T,
Bauhaus,
Technova,
Nik Kershaw,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Flag,
Suicide,
Icehouse,
Sister Nancy,
Rekid,
Tears for Fears,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Severed Heads,
Lalo Schifrin,
Alton Ellis,
Howard Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
X-Ray Spex,
Graham Central Station,
Aural Exciters,
Malaria!,
Robert Hood,
Thompson Twins,
The Barracudas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Althea and Donna,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
R.M.O.,
Mandrill,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Bananas,
Mad Mike,
The Mojo Men,
The Star Department,
Swell Maps,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.