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 Mexico and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Unwound to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
AZ,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
Country Teasers,
Drexciya,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eli Mardock,
Boredoms,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Heaven 17,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Albert Ayler,
Aural Exciters,
Anthony Braxton,
Sonic Youth,
Ten City,
Wally Richardson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric Copeland,
Reuben Wilson,
Freddie Wadling,
Flamin' Groovies,
Panda Bear,
The Tremeloes,
Cybotron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Leaves,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
The Mummies,
DJ Sneak,
Lebanon Hanover,
Inner City,
Tom Boy,
Ken Boothe,
Joensuu 1685,
Icehouse,
Alice Coltrane,
Lucky Dragons,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kerrie Biddell,
Zero Boys,
Hot Snakes,
The Toasters,
cv313,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Can,
The Doors,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Simply Red,
Suburban Knight,
Visage,
Ornette Coleman,
Sugar Minott,
Subhumans,
Max Romeo,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.