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 Serbia and from Milan.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 Deadbeat to the disco 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
The Human League,
Avey Tare,
Animal Collective,
The Saints,
The Cure,
Hot Snakes,
Qualms,
The Victims,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cybotron,
Index,
DNA,
Mars,
The Dave Clark Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Alison Limerick,
Robert Hood,
Byron Stingily,
Gong,
The Seeds,
Joy Division,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Peter and Kerry,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Sherman,
Pylon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Young Marble Giants,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sonic Youth,
Pierre Henry,
Warren Ellis,
The Cowsills,
Bronski Beat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Leaves,
Khruangbin,
The Offenders,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stiv Bators,
Mandrill,
Magma,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Index,
Alton Ellis,
Procol Harum,
The Fuzztones,
Amazonics,
Lou Reed,
Scan 7,
The Grass Roots,
Reuben Wilson,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Gun Club,
Blake Baxter,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.