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 Colombia and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nirvana to the electroclash 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Severed Heads,
Sight & Sound,
The Offenders,
The Alarm Clocks,
Porter Ricks,
FM Einheit,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare,
Radiopuhelimet,
These Immortal Souls,
The Smoke,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
James White and The Blacks,
Minutemen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rites of Spring,
Con Funk Shun,
Spandau Ballet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
8 Eyed Spy,
Davy DMX,
Hardrive,
Nas,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
Young Marble Giants,
Pere Ubu,
The Pretty Things,
Crooked Eye,
kango's stein massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nils Olav,
Index,
Rotary Connection,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Human League,
Camberwell Now,
the Soft Cell,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Anthony Braxton,
Mantronix,
Siglo XX,
Outsiders,
Toni Rubio,
Oneida,
Half Japanese,
Yusef Lateef,
Andrew Hill,
Reuben Wilson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Faust,
Eric Dolphy,
Albert Ayler,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wasted Youth,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.