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 Greece and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Marine Girls to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Angry Samoans,
Television,
Brand Nubian,
Scan 7,
Hardrive,
Heaven 17,
The Star Department,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Althea and Donna,
Scrapy,
Chris Corsano,
The Fire Engines,
Slave,
Pussy Galore,
Morten Harket,
Laurel Aitken,
Colin Newman,
The Angels of Light,
Eve St. Jones,
John Cale,
Roxy Music,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Index,
Simply Red,
Pantaleimon,
UT,
Electric Prunes,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang Starr,
Alison Limerick,
Make Up,
Idris Muhammad,
Black Pus,
New Order,
Tubeway Army,
Section 25,
The Misunderstood,
Glenn Branca,
the Soft Cell,
Tomorrow,
Schoolly D,
The Litter,
Lower 48,
Neil Young,
Henry Cow,
Von Mondo,
Agent Orange,
Marc Almond,
The Gories,
Minutemen,
Quantec,
D'Angelo,
Wally Richardson,
The Seeds,
Wire,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.