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 Honduras and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kerri Chandler to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Motorama,
The Black Dice,
Brothers Johnson,
Porter Ricks,
The Last Poets,
Roxette,
JFA,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fugs,
Magma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Boredoms,
Harmonia,
Lightning Bolt,
Althea and Donna,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Moon,
Clear Light,
Donald Byrd,
Malaria!,
Chrome,
The Cure,
Moebius,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gong,
The Vogues,
Infiniti,
Soulsonic Force,
Shuggie Otis,
Derrick May,
Talk Talk,
Flash Fearless,
Al Stewart,
Swans,
The Sonics,
Little Man,
Stereo Dub,
June of 44,
Graham Central Station,
Sound Behaviour,
The Sound,
Stiv Bators,
The Martian,
K-Klass,
Eli Mardock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jacques Brel,
The Real Kids,
the Normal,
The Happenings,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eric Dolphy,
X-101,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Can,
Reuben Wilson,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.