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 Belgium 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Mad Mike 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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 mellotron and a linndrum 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 clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
The Dead C,
The Detroit Cobras,
Moss Icon,
Mark Hollis,
Rosa Yemen,
Siglo XX,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Electric Prunes,
Mantronix,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cosmic Jokers,
World's Most,
Eve St. Jones,
The Blues Magoos,
Rapeman,
Depeche Mode,
Sister Nancy,
Jacques Brel,
Fear,
Crash Course in Science,
Dawn Penn,
the Normal,
Porter Ricks,
Massinfluence,
Josef K,
The Walker Brothers,
Pagans,
Main Source,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jandek,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Grass Roots,
Terry Callier,
Scratch Acid,
Simply Red,
Blossom Toes,
The New Christs,
Drexciya,
MC5,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Jeff Lynne,
Bill Near,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lindisfarne,
The Doors,
Cameo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nick Fraelich,
Hardrive,
Flash Fearless,
Roxette,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mo-Dettes,
The Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-Ray Spex,
Jerry's Kids,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.