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 Micronesia and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 Arthur Verocai to the crunk 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
the Human League,
The Fugs,
June Days,
World's Most,
Althea and Donna,
Patti Smith,
Amazonics,
Quadrant,
Urselle,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sister Nancy,
Tomorrow,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Nation of Ulysses,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Smog,
the Normal,
Bush Tetras,
Fugazi,
Pylon,
Lyres,
The United States of America,
Eurythmics,
Terry Callier,
The Misunderstood,
Roy Ayers,
the Swans,
Cluster,
Scrapy,
Alton Ellis,
Y Pants,
Supertramp,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
Royal Trux,
Pole,
The Gun Club,
Kenny Larkin,
Agent Orange,
Funky Four + One,
Lungfish,
Slick Rick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sam Rivers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Television,
The Smoke,
The Sonics,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Byrd,
Theoretical Girls,
Derrick May,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hashim,
Boredoms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.