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 Lebanon and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 John Cale to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Fugazi,
Scan 7,
Yaz,
Morten Harket,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jawbox,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rakim,
Sällskapet,
KRS-One,
Moby Grape,
Scratch Acid,
Niagra,
Agent Orange,
Magma,
Minny Pops,
Idris Muhammad,
Peter and Kerry,
The Cure,
David McCallum,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wolf Eyes,
Sarah Menescal,
Animal Collective,
The Modern Lovers,
Yazoo,
The Star Department,
The Victims,
These Immortal Souls,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hasil Adkins,
Camberwell Now,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Can,
Minnie Riperton,
The Martian,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Absolute Body Control,
DNA,
Pharoah Sanders,
Swans,
Funkadelic,
Spandau Ballet,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispian St. Peters,
Connie Case,
Gichy Dan,
The Slackers,
Mark Hollis,
Rod Modell,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rotary Connection,
Technova,
Erykah Badu,
Siglo XX,
Joy Division,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Seeds,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.