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 Maldives and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nik Kershaw to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
The Vogues,
Con Funk Shun,
Graham Central Station,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sexual Harrassment,
Michelle Simonal,
Robert Hood,
Procol Harum,
Wings,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fear,
The Electric Prunes,
K-Klass,
Royal Trux,
The Leaves,
The Moody Blues,
The Saints,
Ituana,
Rod Modell,
Model 500,
Mr. Review,
Peter & Gordon,
The Gories,
Aloha Tigers,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dead C,
T.S.O.L.,
The Fire Engines,
Skarface,
The Divine Comedy,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Association,
Barry Ungar,
Barbara Tucker,
Public Enemy,
Duran Duran,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Black Sheep,
KRS-One,
Deepchord,
Stockholm Monsters,
The New Christs,
Prince Buster,
Theoretical Girls,
Al Stewart,
Quantec,
Absolute Body Control,
Grandmaster Flash,
June Days,
Pylon,
Loose Ends,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Sound,
Brick,
Scott Walker,
Albert Ayler,
Goldenarms,
Tropical Tobacco,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.