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 Indonesia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grime 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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ice-T,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
Funky Four + One,
Neil Young,
the Soft Cell,
The Fugs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kevin Saunderson,
Simply Red,
Robert Görl,
Blake Baxter,
Bang On A Can,
Sam Rivers,
Ronnie Foster,
Sight & Sound,
The Star Department,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Alison Limerick,
Eddi Front,
The J.B.'s,
Mandrill,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Shuggie Otis,
Quadrant,
The Fall,
Outsiders,
Magazine,
Quando Quango,
Funkadelic,
Sex Pistols,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Minutemen,
Pere Ubu,
The Buckinghams,
John Cale,
Pole,
ABC,
Radio Birdman,
Dennis Brown,
Kas Product,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Cure,
Josef K,
Colin Newman,
In Retrospect,
The Cramps,
Angry Samoans,
New Age Steppers,
Visage,
Lyres,
Franke,
Steve Hackett,
Bob Dylan,
Duran Duran,
10cc,
The Five Americans,
The Evens,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.