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 Ukraine and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 kango's stein massive 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Urselle,
Faraquet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Five Americans,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Slick Rick,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
H. Thieme,
DNA,
World's Most,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scrapy,
Howard Jones,
Whodini,
The Gap Band,
Khruangbin,
The Grass Roots,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boredoms,
Second Layer,
The Move,
Brand Nubian,
Marc Almond,
The Fire Engines,
The Walker Brothers,
Lungfish,
Junior Murvin,
Pantaleimon,
Pole,
Lou Reed,
MC5,
Spandau Ballet,
Yellowson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jacques Brel,
Hashim,
Moss Icon,
Gichy Dan,
Con Funk Shun,
Warsaw,
Ralphi Rosario,
Spoonie Gee,
Gabor Szabo,
Cybotron,
Wally Richardson,
The Motions,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bill Near,
ABBA,
the Bar-Kays,
Intrusion,
Dead Boys,
Eric Dolphy,
The Standells,
Kenny Larkin,
Soft Cell,
The Golliwogs,
The Blues Magoos,
Q and Not U,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.