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 Eritrea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Lou Reed 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 Howard Jones to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Cybotron,
Cymande,
Judy Mowatt,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sam Rivers,
The Beau Brummels,
Funkadelic,
The Wake,
The Fortunes,
The Buckinghams,
Michelle Simonal,
Swell Maps,
David McCallum,
June Days,
The Move,
Warsaw,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Porter Ricks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alison Limerick,
Y Pants,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
T. Rex,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yaz,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dual Sessions,
Bootsy Collins,
X-Ray Spex,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Piero Umiliani,
Visage,
Nirvana,
Minnie Riperton,
One Last Wish,
Wasted Youth,
Faust,
Tubeway Army,
John Coltrane,
KRS-One,
The Evens,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hoover,
Lou Reed,
the Fania All-Stars,
T.S.O.L.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lindisfarne,
Tim Buckley,
Lalann,
Roxy Music,
The Star Department,
the Germs,
Adolescents,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Monks,
X-102,
Ultra Naté,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.