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 Monaco and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Faust to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
The Index,
Glenn Branca,
The Pop Group,
Blancmange,
Brick,
Qualms,
Essential Logic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Bar-Kays,
Connie Case,
Joensuu 1685,
John Cale,
Judy Mowatt,
The Moody Blues,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dead C,
Adolescents,
The Last Poets,
Tomorrow,
Sun Ra,
Bush Tetras,
Yellowson,
Freddie Wadling,
Ituana,
Agent Orange,
Magazine,
Moby Grape,
Masters at Work,
The American Breed,
The Martian,
Godley & Creme,
Howard Jones,
Eli Mardock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Quantec,
The Human League,
Aswad,
Brass Construction,
The Doors,
Kayak,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Echospace,
Reuben Wilson,
Byron Stingily,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Golliwogs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nik Kershaw,
Funky Four + One,
Make Up,
X-Ray Spex,
Second Layer,
Von Mondo,
Hashim,
Danielle Patucci,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hot Snakes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tres Demented,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flash Fearless,
Bootsy Collins,
Sonic Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.