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 Tonga and from Lille.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe 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 Byron Stingily to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fear,
Faraquet,
Khruangbin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Radiohead,
The Monochrome Set,
Tim Buckley,
Chris & Cosey,
Urselle,
Harpers Bizarre,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Television,
Connie Case,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amazonics,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sonny Sharrock,
Motorama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nirvana,
The Angels of Light,
Robert Hood,
Cameo,
Bobby Womack,
Danielle Patucci,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang On A Can,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roger Hodgson,
Siglo XX,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Index,
Jimmy McGriff,
Michelle Simonal,
Ralphi Rosario,
T.S.O.L.,
Minny Pops,
Ponytail,
Soft Cell,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Real Kids,
Yaz,
Tommy Roe,
Soul II Soul,
Angry Samoans,
Derrick May,
Ultimate Spinach,
Los Fastidios,
The Slits,
Inner City,
Mars,
The Happenings,
Anthony Braxton,
the Slits,
The New Christs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.