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 Azerbaijan and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ituana to the funk 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
John Holt,
Suicide,
The Real Kids,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tim Buckley,
Pierre Henry,
Slave,
Cameo,
Royal Trux,
Severed Heads,
Kurtis Blow,
The Walker Brothers,
Main Source,
Scion,
E-Dancer,
Warren Ellis,
The Busters,
Barbara Tucker,
Cheater Slicks,
Pussy Galore,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radiohead,
Eddi Front,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
Aaron Thompson,
Don Cherry,
Lyres,
Model 500,
Y Pants,
Josef K,
Henry Cow,
Max Romeo,
Ken Boothe,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rufus Thomas,
Jandek,
Iggy Pop,
Spandau Ballet,
Camouflage,
MDC,
The Motions,
Kerri Chandler,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bauhaus,
Smog,
John Lydon,
Siglo XX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Derrick May,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Lightning Bolt,
Fear,
Accadde A,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.