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 Brazil 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro 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 The Slits to the electroclash 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlbäck record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Pet Shop Boys,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Angry Samoans,
The Motions,
Circle Jerks,
Fad Gadget,
The Last Poets,
The Slackers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Thee Headcoats,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lindisfarne,
Barrington Levy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jandek,
Whodini,
Skaos,
The Leaves,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Inner City,
Oblivians,
The Neon Judgement,
Josef K,
H. Thieme,
the Association,
Mo-Dettes,
Bad Manners,
Gabor Szabo,
Donny Hathaway,
Todd Terry,
Bang On A Can,
Visage,
Letta Mbulu,
Pantaleimon,
Hardrive,
Erykah Badu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dave Gahan,
Qualms,
Sun Ra,
Black Pus,
Scott Walker,
Sixth Finger,
Agitation Free,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Derrick May,
Monolake,
Rosa Yemen,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott Heron,
Au Pairs,
Sex Pistols,
The Fire Engines,
Make Up,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pere Ubu,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.