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 Fiji and from Mumbai.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Leonard Cohen to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Mr. Review,
Buzzcocks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Maurizio,
Dark Day,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Popol Vuh,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rapeman,
Flipper,
Yaz,
Blancmange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Blake Baxter,
UT,
The Gladiators,
The Grass Roots,
Jandek,
Hot Snakes,
Derrick Morgan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alice Coltrane,
Animal Collective,
Erykah Badu,
Public Image Ltd.,
Quando Quango,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hoover,
Neil Young,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minor Threat,
Maleditus Sound,
Metal Thangz,
Marshall Jefferson,
Absolute Body Control,
Brick,
The Fugs,
Subhumans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
Skaos,
The Sonics,
Eric Copeland,
Motorama,
Rotary Connection,
The Blackbyrds,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Livin' Joy,
These Immortal Souls,
The Searchers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Echospace,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Kinks,
48th St. Collective,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.