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 Bahamas and from Beijing.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Gun Club to the punk 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Mars,
The Durutti Column,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Misunderstood,
Idris Muhammad,
Stetsasonic,
Kas Product,
Tears for Fears,
The Gladiators,
X-102,
Lightning Bolt,
Graham Central Station,
Jawbox,
Japan,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Knickerbockers,
Fluxion,
Tommy Roe,
Boredoms,
The Pretty Things,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soul II Soul,
Pantytec,
Bad Manners,
The Seeds,
Bizarre Inc.,
X-Ray Spex,
Byron Stingily,
Jandek,
Letta Mbulu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Aswad,
Brass Construction,
Swell Maps,
Marc Almond,
Basic Channel,
John Foxx,
Vladislav Delay,
China Crisis,
Model 500,
David Bowie,
Rekid,
Livin' Joy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
B.T. Express,
The Invisible,
Al Stewart,
Skriet,
Scrapy,
Loose Ends,
Subhumans,
The Doors,
Bill Near,
The Black Dice,
The Residents,
DJ Style,
Groovy Waters,
Dead Boys,
La Düsseldorf,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.