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 Guatemala and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Youth Brigade to the rap 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Eve St. Jones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Wake,
Simply Red,
John Lydon,
David Bowie,
Severed Heads,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Monks,
Babytalk,
The Slackers,
KRS-One,
This Heat,
MC5,
Ultra Naté,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alphaville,
Nation of Ulysses,
Absolute Body Control,
Piero Umiliani,
Skriet,
The Buckinghams,
X-Ray Spex,
Ossler,
Erykah Badu,
Roy Ayers,
the Sonics,
Heaven 17,
The Kinks,
The Evens,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mark Hollis,
Terry Callier,
Jawbox,
The Modern Lovers,
Davy DMX,
Pylon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lindisfarne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Vladislav Delay,
Glenn Branca,
Rapeman,
Silicon Teens,
Mr. Review,
Kayak,
Yellowson,
Rosa Yemen,
Mo-Dettes,
Janne Schatter,
Maurizio,
Essential Logic,
Accadde A,
Scrapy,
Iggy Pop,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Arab on Radar,
Kenny Larkin,
Harmonia,
Black Sheep,
Maleditus Sound,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.