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 India and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Grandmaster Flash to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Mission of Burma,
Lyres,
La Düsseldorf,
Bang On A Can,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bush Tetras,
The Angels of Light,
The Pretty Things,
The Fuzztones,
Sparks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Babytalk,
Nik Kershaw,
Barclay James Harvest,
K-Klass,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Negative Approach,
The Birthday Party,
Y Pants,
Kenny Larkin,
Royal Trux,
Mark Hollis,
Juan Atkins,
Public Enemy,
Joey Negro,
Eurythmics,
Maurizio,
The Pop Group,
Prince Buster,
Pet Shop Boys,
Matthew Bourne,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dirtbombs,
Oblivians,
DNA,
Nirvana,
Rakim,
Unrelated Segments,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Red Krayola,
Sällskapet,
Dead Boys,
Delon & Dalcan,
Grey Daturas,
These Immortal Souls,
Josef K,
kango's stein massive,
The Martian,
Mars,
Trumans Water,
James White and The Blacks,
Spandau Ballet,
Jerry's Kids,
Rapeman,
The Sonics,
Urselle,
Wasted Youth,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.