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 Bolivia and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 T.S.O.L. 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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
The Index,
Fear,
Blancmange,
Soft Cell,
The Dirtbombs,
One Last Wish,
John Holt,
Josef K,
Dorothy Ashby,
Unrelated Segments,
Ponytail,
Susan Cadogan,
The Human League,
The Walker Brothers,
the Fania All-Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Offenders,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Byron Stingily,
Roger Hodgson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fluxion,
Juan Atkins,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Wyatt,
Sparks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rapeman,
Graham Central Station,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mr. Review,
R.M.O.,
Reagan Youth,
Marine Girls,
Khruangbin,
Bobby Womack,
Kenny Larkin,
Pagans,
Blossom Toes,
Bush Tetras,
Godley & Creme,
The Black Dice,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Boredoms,
The Real Kids,
Althea and Donna,
Black Flag,
Andrew Hill,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
Suicide,
Junior Murvin,
Lee Hazlewood,
Robert Hood,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Max Romeo,
The Five Americans,
Oblivians,
Arcadia,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.