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 Samoa and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 New York Dolls to the electroclash 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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Severed Heads,
Ronan,
Pulsallama,
Howard Jones,
Groovy Waters,
Jandek,
Banda Bassotti,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fatback Band,
The Birthday Party,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Von Mondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eli Mardock,
Kenny Larkin,
X-Ray Spex,
MDC,
Susan Cadogan,
Mr. Review,
Joyce Sims,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chrome,
Tommy Roe,
The Dead C,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pantaleimon,
The Moody Blues,
Dual Sessions,
Gang Gang Dance,
Country Teasers,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang of Four,
Faraquet,
Funkadelic,
John Cale,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warren Ellis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Slits,
Steve Hackett,
Soft Machine,
The Stooges,
The Cowsills,
Interpol,
John Foxx,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sound,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bootsy Collins,
Cybotron,
Junior Murvin,
Subhumans,
Bobby Byrd,
Magma,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.