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 Bangladesh and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
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 arpeggiator 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 Stockholm Monsters to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Q65 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Finger,
The Golliwogs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Barbara Tucker,
Aural Exciters,
Malaria!,
Harmonia,
the Soft Cell,
Public Enemy,
Lalann,
Grey Daturas,
World's Most,
Lou Christie,
K-Klass,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Seeds,
Make Up,
Scratch Acid,
Henry Cow,
The Real Kids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Sherman,
The New Christs,
Jacques Brel,
Tim Buckley,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cramps,
Kevin Saunderson,
Television,
L. Decosne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Girls At Our Best!,
Spandau Ballet,
Wasted Youth,
Jandek,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Evens,
Technova,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brothers Johnson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wire,
Fat Boys,
10cc,
Subhumans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Smiths,
Gerry Rafferty,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lee Hazlewood,
This Heat,
Theoretical Girls,
Circle Jerks,
The Red Krayola,
Skriet,
John Cale,
Mars,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.