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 Haiti and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sun City Girls to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Tom Boy,
The Gun Club,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Porter Ricks,
Camberwell Now,
Bronski Beat,
John Coltrane,
X-101,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Q65,
Audionom,
Desert Stars,
Heaven 17,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Searchers,
Junior Murvin,
Moebius,
La Düsseldorf,
Pagans,
Rosa Yemen,
The Saints,
Sound Behaviour,
Symarip,
Joyce Sims,
The Litter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Saccharine Trust,
Todd Terry,
Suicide,
Deadbeat,
Lebanon Hanover,
Blancmange,
The Buckinghams,
OOIOO,
Scott Walker,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brand Nubian,
Theoretical Girls,
Bob Dylan,
Alison Limerick,
Scrapy,
The Index,
Black Sheep,
The Electric Prunes,
Main Source,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joe Smooth,
Al Stewart,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bauhaus,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Slits,
The United States of America,
Rakim,
Marvin Gaye,
Hot Snakes,
Animal Collective,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.