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 Venezuela and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
Black Sheep,
The Offenders,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lower 48,
Alton Ellis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Al Stewart,
John Foxx,
Jerry's Kids,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Standells,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brothers Johnson,
Hashim,
Y Pants,
Tom Boy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Barracudas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Little Man,
This Heat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Guru Guru,
Sällskapet,
L. Decosne,
Icehouse,
The Smoke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tubeway Army,
New York Dolls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
EPMD,
Dorothy Ashby,
Outsiders,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Smog,
Connie Case,
Silicon Teens,
Gang Green,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aaron Thompson,
Royal Trux,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Happenings,
The Count Five,
Black Moon,
Albert Ayler,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gories,
Spoonie Gee,
The Pop Group,
The Beau Brummels,
The Tremeloes,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.