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 Slovenia and from Edmonton.
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 Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Spandau Ballet to the crunk 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Theoretical Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Delta 5,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mission of Burma,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eve St. Jones,
The Remains,
Das Ding,
Pantytec,
Crash Course in Science,
Swans,
New Age Steppers,
The Associates,
Connie Case,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Cure,
The Invisible,
Arthur Verocai,
Don Cherry,
The Skatalites,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Monks,
The Stooges,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobby Womack,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barry Ungar,
Johnny Osbourne,
Robert Hood,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Groovy Waters,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Davy DMX,
Jeff Lynne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Cowsills,
Gang Gang Dance,
Faust,
Adolescents,
Idris Muhammad,
Sparks,
Steve Hackett,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ossler,
Rod Modell,
Zero Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
Excepter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Lydon,
Ice-T,
The Velvet Underground,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.