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 Togo 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the electroclash 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sam Rivers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Happenings,
The Move,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deakin,
The Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
Angry Samoans,
The Doors,
Shoche,
Silicon Teens,
Buzzcocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harry Pussy,
Tim Buckley,
Panda Bear,
David Bowie,
Black Pus,
DJ Sneak,
Brick,
Bill Wells,
Leonard Cohen,
Black Bananas,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Half Japanese,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nico,
Scientists,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
Slick Rick,
Man Parrish,
Amon Düül,
The Golliwogs,
Cal Tjader,
Cameo,
Gang of Four,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sugar Minott,
Marvin Gaye,
Bush Tetras,
Kayak,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hoover,
The Fall,
Tubeway Army,
The Offenders,
The Slackers,
Crime,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stetsasonic,
Theoretical Girls,
Depeche Mode,
the Sonics,
Clear Light,
Rod Modell,
June Days,
Graham Central Station,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.