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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar 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 The Slits to the dance 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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rites of Spring,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joyce Sims,
Simply Red,
Joe Smooth,
Lyres,
The Music Machine,
The Human League,
Pylon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Warren Ellis,
The Neon Judgement,
KRS-One,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Q and Not U,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Blues Magoos,
Skarface,
David McCallum,
Sonic Youth,
Monks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ituana,
Icehouse,
The Velvet Underground,
Shoche,
Lalann,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hot Snakes,
Silicon Teens,
Masters at Work,
Iggy Pop,
Harry Pussy,
Camberwell Now,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Searchers,
The Golliwogs,
June of 44,
Henry Cow,
Don Cherry,
The Divine Comedy,
Monolake,
The Offenders,
Basic Channel,
Amon Düül,
Graham Central Station,
Pussy Galore,
Maleditus Sound,
Organ,
Black Pus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Girls At Our Best!,
Inner City,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.