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 Guyana and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pierre Henry 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Human League,
R.M.O.,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Monks,
Jacques Brel,
Technova,
Yaz,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Young Rascals,
Parry Music,
Arthur Verocai,
Tommy Roe,
Lower 48,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
Wolf Eyes,
Model 500,
10cc,
The Smoke,
The Dirtbombs,
The Move,
John Foxx,
The Shadows of Knight,
Piero Umiliani,
Drive Like Jehu,
Arab on Radar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lucky Dragons,
The Happenings,
Andrew Hill,
The Real Kids,
Prince Buster,
Delta 5,
Roxy Music,
The Blues Magoos,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Metal Thangz,
Lightning Bolt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Neon Judgement,
Matthew Bourne,
Sonny Sharrock,
Charles Mingus,
Swell Maps,
Spandau Ballet,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Cale,
Tears for Fears,
Tim Buckley,
Ultra Naté,
The Motions,
Danielle Patucci,
The Star Department,
Brick,
Maleditus Sound,
New Order,
Deadbeat,
Babytalk,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.