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 Gabon and from Tehran.
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 Cairo and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Quadrant to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
The Dead C,
Laurel Aitken,
Roy Ayers,
The Angels of Light,
Minutemen,
Lightning Bolt,
Skriet,
UT,
The Buckinghams,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fear,
Bush Tetras,
Warren Ellis,
John Foxx,
Porter Ricks,
The Busters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Suicide,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Yazoo,
Pagans,
Q and Not U,
The Pretty Things,
The Misunderstood,
The Wake,
Henry Cow,
Bobby Womack,
The Gladiators,
Rosa Yemen,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Offenders,
Young Marble Giants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lower 48,
Wire,
Sex Pistols,
Traffic Nightmare,
Newcleus,
Andrew Hill,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eli Mardock,
Procol Harum,
X-101,
Stetsasonic,
Eric Copeland,
Leonard Cohen,
Radio Birdman,
Tom Boy,
Los Fastidios,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
Eden Ahbez,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hasil Adkins,
One Last Wish,
Johnny Osbourne,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.