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 Korea South and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Flamin' Groovies to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rakim,
Bill Wells,
Saccharine Trust,
Anthony Braxton,
the Swans,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tears for Fears,
The Monochrome Set,
The United States of America,
Glenn Branca,
John Foxx,
Jacob Miller,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fugazi,
Inner City,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
Lou Christie,
Essential Logic,
The New Christs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pussy Galore,
Neu!,
Fluxion,
Moby Grape,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arthur Verocai,
Joe Smooth,
The Neon Judgement,
Isaac Hayes,
Los Fastidios,
Banda Bassotti,
The Trojans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June of 44,
The Buckinghams,
Brand Nubian,
Supertramp,
the Germs,
Radio Birdman,
Theoretical Girls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Terry Callier,
Kenny Larkin,
Blake Baxter,
Aswad,
Pierre Henry,
Monks,
Jacques Brel,
The Happenings,
Johnny Clarke,
E-Dancer,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Maleditus Sound,
These Immortal Souls,
David McCallum,
John Lydon,
Country Teasers,
Mars,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.