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 Djibouti and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet 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 Brass Construction to the grime 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Country Teasers,
Archie Shepp,
The Martian,
L. Decosne,
The Vogues,
Jacob Miller,
Severed Heads,
Youth Brigade,
Mandrill,
Main Source,
Judy Mowatt,
Wings,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Q and Not U,
DNA,
Bang On A Can,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fear,
The Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
Sandy B,
Joey Negro,
The Young Rascals,
Flamin' Groovies,
Heaven 17,
Accadde A,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Sheep,
Brick,
Davy DMX,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Angels of Light,
Minny Pops,
The Zeros,
Barrington Levy,
The Mojo Men,
The Five Americans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Panda Bear,
Peter and Kerry,
Vladislav Delay,
Nirvana,
Robert Görl,
Glambeats Corp.,
Spoonie Gee,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lindisfarne,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Moon,
B.T. Express,
Radio Birdman,
Blancmange,
The Seeds,
Amazonics,
Sunsets and Hearts,
John Lydon,
Tim Buckley,
John Foxx,
Quantec,
The Last Poets,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.