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 Cyprus and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Intrusion to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Sexual Harrassment,
The New Christs,
Marine Girls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Index,
Unrelated Segments,
Schoolly D,
The Last Poets,
Jawbox,
Chrome,
Ponytail,
Thee Headcoats,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gun Club,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kenny Larkin,
Bootsy Collins,
The Selecter,
Faraquet,
Agent Orange,
Second Layer,
David Axelrod,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Deadbeat,
kango's stein massive,
Robert Hood,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Subhumans,
The Remains,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Trumans Water,
Todd Terry,
David McCallum,
The Misunderstood,
Skaos,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Moody Blues,
Arthur Verocai,
Dead Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sam Rivers,
Deepchord,
The Monochrome Set,
Glambeats Corp.,
Parry Music,
Slave,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eric Dolphy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Loose Ends,
Magazine,
Crime,
Pussy Galore,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Gang Dance,
Connie Case,
Gabor Szabo,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.