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 Brunei and from New York.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Byron Stingily to the disco 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Camberwell Now,
The Moleskins,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Motorama,
The Standells,
Tears for Fears,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Severed Heads,
Skaos,
Bobby Byrd,
Skriet,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sight & Sound,
Tom Boy,
Monks,
Tubeway Army,
Heaven 17,
Yellowson,
Young Marble Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nas,
Al Stewart,
La Düsseldorf,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spoonie Gee,
Mars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Brass Construction,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gabor Szabo,
The J.B.'s,
Wolf Eyes,
Whodini,
The Electric Prunes,
Minor Threat,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lightning Bolt,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Traffic Nightmare,
PIL,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül II,
The Gladiators,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Dennis Brown,
Hoover,
Scientists,
The Monochrome Set,
Marvin Gaye,
Surgeon,
Ronnie Foster,
Echospace,
Hasil Adkins,
Zapp,
Funky Four + One,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sound Behaviour,
Agent Orange,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.