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 Uzbekistan and from Halifax.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Faust to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Last Poets,
Vladislav Delay,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
U.S. Maple,
The Red Krayola,
Gregory Isaacs,
Little Man,
Symarip,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The New Christs,
Henry Cow,
Wire,
Lee Hazlewood,
Easy Going,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The J.B.'s,
The Monochrome Set,
The Slits,
Franke,
Shuggie Otis,
Judy Mowatt,
La Düsseldorf,
The Techniques,
Scott Walker,
The Martian,
The Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Robert Wyatt,
Loose Ends,
the Soft Cell,
Royal Trux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Model 500,
Sugar Minott,
Eric B and Rakim,
T.S.O.L.,
Severed Heads,
Wings,
Soft Machine,
Archie Shepp,
Andrew Hill,
Liliput,
The Angels of Light,
In Retrospect,
The Gun Club,
Sonic Youth,
The Remains,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jeff Lynne,
Clear Light,
Al Stewart,
Eric Copeland,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rekid,
Dark Day,
Brass Construction,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.