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 Micronesia and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 cv313 to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
The American Breed,
Gang of Four,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ronan,
Wally Richardson,
Fela Kuti,
The Victims,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jeru the Damaja,
Stockholm Monsters,
E-Dancer,
Lower 48,
Charles Mingus,
Niagra,
John Lydon,
The Dead C,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Buzzcocks,
Scratch Acid,
Eve St. Jones,
Drexciya,
the Normal,
Girls At Our Best!,
Angry Samoans,
Gichy Dan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crime,
New Age Steppers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Remains,
Camberwell Now,
The United States of America,
Eli Mardock,
Alice Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
Man Parrish,
Sight & Sound,
Underground Resistance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Masters at Work,
Deakin,
Andrew Hill,
Hardrive,
Minutemen,
Make Up,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Colin Newman,
Josef K,
The Seeds,
Intrusion,
A Certain Ratio,
The Young Rascals,
DJ Sneak,
Fugazi,
Nas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Stooges,
Traffic Nightmare,
Albert Ayler,
Alison Limerick,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.