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 Iceland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bootsy Collins to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harry Pussy,
Zapp,
Bobby Byrd,
Amazonics,
Isaac Hayes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jacob Miller,
Radio Birdman,
Grey Daturas,
10cc,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Normal,
Hasil Adkins,
Scion,
John Coltrane,
John Foxx,
The Fugs,
John Holt,
Mo-Dettes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bootsy Collins,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Andrew Hill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Motorama,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monolake,
Cymande,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lyres,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Chris & Cosey,
Bill Wells,
Jerry's Kids,
A Certain Ratio,
Pantytec,
Arcadia,
Rekid,
Roxy Music,
Charles Mingus,
Deepchord,
Fluxion,
Pantaleimon,
Y Pants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
48th St. Collective,
Pagans,
Adolescents,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Real Kids,
Von Mondo,
Section 25,
Lindisfarne,
The Motions,
Steve Hackett,
The Monks,
The Dead C,
Darondo,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.