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 Mauritius and from Jakarta.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Angels of Light to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sound Behaviour,
The United States of America,
Bob Dylan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Radiopuhelimet,
Country Teasers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scan 7,
PIL,
China Crisis,
Gerry Rafferty,
Boz Scaggs,
JFA,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Groovy Waters,
Masters at Work,
Funky Four + One,
Neil Young,
Alison Limerick,
The Victims,
LL Cool J,
The Monochrome Set,
Franke,
Gabor Szabo,
Soulsonic Force,
Marmalade,
Nirvana,
Make Up,
Marine Girls,
Scrapy,
Ronnie Foster,
Peter and Kerry,
Rod Modell,
Pylon,
Wings,
Supertramp,
Bad Manners,
Public Image Ltd.,
Underground Resistance,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sister Nancy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sound,
The Birthday Party,
Piero Umiliani,
The Golliwogs,
Jacob Miller,
the Normal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Circle Jerks,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-101,
Intrusion,
Black Bananas,
the Human League,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.