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 Belize and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron 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 Television Personalities to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warren Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
The Wake,
Henry Cow,
U.S. Maple,
Inner City,
Aloha Tigers,
The Pop Group,
Desert Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roy Ayers,
Bill Wells,
Lucky Dragons,
Toni Rubio,
the Association,
Blossom Toes,
B.T. Express,
The Neon Judgement,
Massinfluence,
The Searchers,
Danielle Patucci,
Graham Central Station,
Little Man,
The Moleskins,
Oblivians,
Sonic Youth,
The Zeros,
Swell Maps,
Sarah Menescal,
Gong,
The Cure,
Motorama,
Vainqueur,
Youth Brigade,
Tears for Fears,
Television Personalities,
Leonard Cohen,
Gichy Dan,
The Cramps,
Angry Samoans,
Blancmange,
Albert Ayler,
Prince Buster,
The Motions,
The United States of America,
Severed Heads,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New York Dolls,
Zero Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
In Retrospect,
Cybotron,
Alice Coltrane,
Gang of Four,
Harry Pussy,
Khruangbin,
Eden Ahbez,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Donald Byrd,
Ultravox,
Lalann,
Magazine,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.