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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb 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 Beasts of Bourbon 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Qualms,
The Slackers,
The Dead C,
ABBA,
Neil Young,
Lou Reed,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
The Happenings,
Peter & Gordon,
Joe Finger,
Glenn Branca,
The Monks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dave Gahan,
The Knickerbockers,
Tom Boy,
The Mummies,
Scott Walker,
Niagra,
The Dave Clark Five,
Peter and Kerry,
Sam Rivers,
Moss Icon,
Altered Images,
Avey Tare,
Shoche,
The Slits,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vladislav Delay,
Gichy Dan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Interpol,
Crooked Eye,
Lindisfarne,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Faraquet,
Toni Rubio,
Jandek,
Rapeman,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Danielle Patucci,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
Moby Grape,
The Buckinghams,
Theoretical Girls,
The Barracudas,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Velvet Underground,
Boogie Down Productions,
Barbara Tucker,
Infiniti,
Thompson Twins,
Goldenarms,
Bootsy Collins,
The Alarm Clocks,
Organ,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.