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 Mauritania and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 harpsichord 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 David Axelrod to the rock 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
The Invisible,
Anthony Braxton,
Vladislav Delay,
Harmonia,
A Certain Ratio,
Monolake,
The New Christs,
Archie Shepp,
Depeche Mode,
Letta Mbulu,
Quando Quango,
Roger Hodgson,
The Fugs,
Sandy B,
David Bowie,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funky Four + One,
Moby Grape,
Eddi Front,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Stooges,
The Moody Blues,
Symarip,
Gabor Szabo,
Minor Threat,
The Music Machine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rufus Thomas,
Drexciya,
Davy DMX,
Urselle,
Alice Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joe Finger,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dennis Brown,
Trumans Water,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ken Boothe,
Aloha Tigers,
Nico,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Malaria!,
The Wake,
Josef K,
Duran Duran,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Organ,
T. Rex,
Hoover,
The Busters,
One Last Wish,
Excepter,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.