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 South Sudan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
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 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 David Bowie 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 Neu! to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Boogie Down Productions,
Suburban Knight,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Aloha Tigers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
James White and The Blacks,
The Black Dice,
Amazonics,
Unrelated Segments,
The Fire Engines,
Lakeside,
Sparks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Raincoats,
Roxy Music,
Talk Talk,
a-ha,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Soul II Soul,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Bar-Kays,
Pussy Galore,
Maleditus Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Boredoms,
Flipper,
Lalann,
The Sonics,
Alphaville,
John Foxx,
Harry Pussy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jawbox,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The United States of America,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bronski Beat,
Siglo XX,
Lucky Dragons,
Theoretical Girls,
Minutemen,
Ronnie Foster,
The Dead C,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Curtis Mayfield,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Swans,
Shoche,
Malaria!,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jacques Brel,
The Barracudas,
Roy Ayers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gabor Szabo,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.