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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 harpsichord 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 Scan 7 to the electroclash 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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Quadrant,
Sixth Finger,
Massinfluence,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
The Slackers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marmalade,
The Leaves,
The Sound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lucky Dragons,
Josef K,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Davy DMX,
Johnny Clarke,
Infiniti,
The Fugs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Oneida,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Misunderstood,
Youth Brigade,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
Cybotron,
Radiohead,
Sound Behaviour,
L. Decosne,
The Fortunes,
LL Cool J,
Max Romeo,
MC5,
Fatback Band,
Rod Modell,
Echospace,
Godley & Creme,
Grey Daturas,
Sparks,
The Pretty Things,
Goldenarms,
Organ,
Dave Gahan,
John Foxx,
K-Klass,
Desert Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Blossom Toes,
Erasure,
Mark Hollis,
Charles Mingus,
Funky Four + One,
Mantronix,
Angry Samoans,
Flash Fearless,
Outsiders,
Jesper Dahlback,
Accadde A,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.