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 Ivory Coast and from Lagos.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Marmalade to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Y Pants,
Absolute Body Control,
Bad Manners,
MDC,
The Residents,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Bananas,
Mantronix,
The Move,
Sexual Harrassment,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultravox,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radio Birdman,
Mr. Review,
Aloha Tigers,
David Axelrod,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Young Rascals,
Byron Stingily,
New Age Steppers,
the Human League,
Drive Like Jehu,
John Foxx,
Visage,
The Associates,
The Techniques,
D'Angelo,
The Dead C,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mark Hollis,
Ken Boothe,
Cheater Slicks,
Wally Richardson,
Saccharine Trust,
Intrusion,
Nation of Ulysses,
Skaos,
the Slits,
Moebius,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Görl,
Scratch Acid,
Fear,
Pantytec,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Michelle Simonal,
Guru Guru,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Gabor Szabo,
the Normal,
Section 25,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cybotron,
The American Breed,
Ronan,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.