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 Lesotho and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Gang of Four to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jawbox,
Bobby Sherman,
The Beau Brummels,
Dead Boys,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sonic Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Electric Prunes,
Oblivians,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeff Mills,
Radiopuhelimet,
Minor Threat,
Skaos,
Newcleus,
Negative Approach,
The Monochrome Set,
Harry Pussy,
Tres Demented,
Gang of Four,
China Crisis,
Derrick May,
Pole,
Banda Bassotti,
Ultravox,
Motorama,
Hasil Adkins,
John Lydon,
Thee Headcoats,
Tomorrow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spandau Ballet,
Byron Stingily,
PIL,
Black Bananas,
Porter Ricks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jacob Miller,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cymande,
Eden Ahbez,
Eli Mardock,
Brothers Johnson,
Bronski Beat,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Y Pants,
Kas Product,
the Association,
OOIOO,
Yazoo,
The Wake,
Japan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bluetip,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vainqueur,
Lightning Bolt,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.