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 Solomon Islands and from Madrid.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Interpol to the rap 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Anthony Braxton,
The Motions,
Henry Cow,
Bush Tetras,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mars,
Pole,
Young Marble Giants,
Inner City,
Severed Heads,
Sight & Sound,
the Germs,
The Electric Prunes,
Susan Cadogan,
Iggy Pop,
Liliput,
Ludus,
Absolute Body Control,
In Retrospect,
Symarip,
This Heat,
The Gun Club,
The Vogues,
The Flesh Eaters,
R.M.O.,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultravox,
The Mummies,
Organ,
Hot Snakes,
Pagans,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang On A Can,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Idris Muhammad,
Popol Vuh,
Intrusion,
The Kinks,
Toni Rubio,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Terry Callier,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jacob Miller,
Davy DMX,
The Fire Engines,
Y Pants,
Con Funk Shun,
Clear Light,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Main Source,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
The Barracudas,
The Cure,
Buzzcocks,
Mo-Dettes,
Spandau Ballet,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.