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 Eritrea and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 New Age Steppers to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Albert Ayler,
Glenn Branca,
Television,
Wally Richardson,
Fat Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
Unwound,
Urselle,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Byrd,
Dawn Penn,
The American Breed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joensuu 1685,
Nas,
Aloha Tigers,
Mission of Burma,
Eddi Front,
Khruangbin,
Hashim,
the Sonics,
Robert Görl,
Porter Ricks,
Roxy Music,
Cheater Slicks,
Marine Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pussy Galore,
Tim Buckley,
Stiv Bators,
Joyce Sims,
The Electric Prunes,
Sparks,
Harmonia,
Chrome,
Visage,
Jandek,
Nirvana,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fall,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Neon Judgement,
X-Ray Spex,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Foxx,
Josef K,
Nick Fraelich,
Swans,
FM Einheit,
Deepchord,
Delta 5,
The Five Americans,
Japan,
Aural Exciters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vainqueur,
Suicide,
The Selecter,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.