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 Micronesia and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Can to the grunge 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Cluster,
Crime,
Pantytec,
The Stooges,
Johnny Osbourne,
Electric Prunes,
Joey Negro,
Camberwell Now,
Terry Callier,
X-101,
Amon Düül,
Royal Trux,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Womack,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soft Cell,
Porter Ricks,
Sound Behaviour,
Oblivians,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brass Construction,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Duran Duran,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Television,
Drive Like Jehu,
Skaos,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wally Richardson,
Marmalade,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stereo Dub,
Hasil Adkins,
Darondo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
K-Klass,
Neu!,
Nation of Ulysses,
Janne Schatter,
Man Parrish,
Slick Rick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Shuggie Otis,
Wasted Youth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stiv Bators,
The Cowsills,
Country Teasers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Supertramp,
Crash Course in Science,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.