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 Nigeria 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar 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 Jeru the Damaja to the electroclash 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mo-Dettes,
Soul II Soul,
Eddi Front,
The Offenders,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wasted Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fugs,
the Human League,
Goldenarms,
Lungfish,
Prince Buster,
Fugazi,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stereo Dub,
a-ha,
Youth Brigade,
Sonny Sharrock,
Robert Hood,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
D'Angelo,
Pagans,
Lakeside,
Ossler,
Excepter,
Gang of Four,
Robert Görl,
Surgeon,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joe Smooth,
PIL,
Sam Rivers,
Judy Mowatt,
The Mojo Men,
Loose Ends,
Avey Tare,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Flag,
Cybotron,
The Doobie Brothers,
Organ,
The Monochrome Set,
The Seeds,
Trumans Water,
Jacques Brel,
Robert Wyatt,
Chrome,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Deakin,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Music Machine,
Skaos,
Public Enemy,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.