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 Italy and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Smiths to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Juan Atkins,
Cluster,
Groovy Waters,
The Doors,
Roxette,
Soft Machine,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Görl,
The Skatalites,
Ken Boothe,
Massinfluence,
World's Most,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Trojans,
Accadde A,
Darondo,
Make Up,
Sixth Finger,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Pus,
Scott Walker,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Monochrome Set,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
L. Decosne,
Fear,
T.S.O.L.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bronski Beat,
Cal Tjader,
EPMD,
Yellowson,
Swell Maps,
Goldenarms,
Wolf Eyes,
Reagan Youth,
Camberwell Now,
Joy Division,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Monolake,
Max Romeo,
The Misunderstood,
Deepchord,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scientists,
Crooked Eye,
Bill Near,
Spoonie Gee,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Dead C,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Young Rascals,
The Martian,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aswad,
MC5,
Aaron Thompson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rosa Yemen,
Rotary Connection,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!.
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.