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 Iran and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Franke to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Reagan Youth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eric Copeland,
Nas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soft Cell,
Sister Nancy,
Erasure,
David McCallum,
The Busters,
Minny Pops,
Radio Birdman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Porter Ricks,
The Tremeloes,
Rites of Spring,
Livin' Joy,
Franke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Aloha Tigers,
Spandau Ballet,
The J.B.'s,
Ludus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Whodini,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Buzzcocks,
Quadrant,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Country Teasers,
Icehouse,
Barrington Levy,
Laurel Aitken,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Main Source,
Royal Trux,
Bob Dylan,
These Immortal Souls,
Barclay James Harvest,
Malaria!,
Y Pants,
Josef K,
Arab on Radar,
A Certain Ratio,
Inner City,
The Beau Brummels,
Yaz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alice Coltrane,
Girls At Our Best!,
Underground Resistance,
Trumans Water,
Wire,
Throbbing Gristle,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ohio Players,
Groovy Waters,
One Last Wish,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.