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 Bangladesh and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 L. Decosne to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Tubeway Army,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sexual Harrassment,
CMW,
the Fania All-Stars,
Skriet,
Sex Pistols,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter and Kerry,
Ronnie Foster,
Juan Atkins,
Accadde A,
Suburban Knight,
Lakeside,
ABBA,
The Dirtbombs,
Marvin Gaye,
Kurtis Blow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Buzzcocks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Charles Mingus,
Swans,
Robert Görl,
Eurythmics,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marcia Griffiths,
La Düsseldorf,
Massinfluence,
Barry Ungar,
The Fuzztones,
New Age Steppers,
The Birthday Party,
Lou Christie,
Eden Ahbez,
Johnny Clarke,
Minnie Riperton,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Monolake,
Howard Jones,
Siglo XX,
Mantronix,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxy Music,
The Smiths,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Oneida,
Matthew Halsall,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Alphaville,
Maurizio,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Real Kids,
Lungfish,
Harmonia,
A Certain Ratio,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.