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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Bananas 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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sonic Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mad Mike,
Fat Boys,
Scientists,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Mojo Men,
Gastr Del Sol,
Amazonics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Monks,
U.S. Maple,
Gang Starr,
The Fugs,
Outsiders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brick,
Bluetip,
Oneida,
The Wake,
John Holt,
Minnie Riperton,
Kayak,
Technova,
David McCallum,
Black Sheep,
Nils Olav,
Smog,
Laurel Aitken,
Loose Ends,
H. Thieme,
Rod Modell,
Babytalk,
Crispian St. Peters,
Graham Central Station,
Joe Smooth,
Matthew Bourne,
Jandek,
John Foxx,
Erykah Badu,
Judy Mowatt,
World's Most,
Siglo XX,
The Divine Comedy,
Youth Brigade,
Duran Duran,
Tommy Roe,
The Litter,
Bob Dylan,
John Lydon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Massinfluence,
Suburban Knight,
Wire,
Andrew Hill,
John Coltrane,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Doors,
Sparks,
Kaleidoscope,
Magma,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.