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 Uzbekistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Pulsallama to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blackbyrds,
Hardrive,
Ronan,
The Litter,
Sound Behaviour,
James White and The Blacks,
Animal Collective,
The Monks,
Aloha Tigers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Skarface,
Underground Resistance,
Barbara Tucker,
Pagans,
Pere Ubu,
Bobby Womack,
The Five Americans,
The Slits,
David Axelrod,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jerry's Kids,
The Smoke,
PIL,
Jeff Lynne,
The Young Rascals,
The Mummies,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Magazine,
The Motions,
The Standells,
Rapeman,
Bob Dylan,
Scientists,
Fat Boys,
Y Pants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Foxx,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
Max Romeo,
The Electric Prunes,
Tim Buckley,
Kerri Chandler,
Soft Cell,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Morten Harket,
Oneida,
the Soft Cell,
Can,
The Busters,
Wolf Eyes,
Mandrill,
Gang Gang Dance,
Faust,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lalo Schifrin,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.