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 Armenia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 The Beau Brummels to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
The Fugs,
Erykah Badu,
Jawbox,
Danielle Patucci,
Bizarre Inc.,
Archie Shepp,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lou Christie,
D'Angelo,
Tres Demented,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
Idris Muhammad,
Wolf Eyes,
Adolescents,
Urselle,
Hashim,
T.S.O.L.,
Newcleus,
Ultra Naté,
Prince Buster,
Moebius,
Nik Kershaw,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Monochrome Set,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sister Nancy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pylon,
Pussy Galore,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Slits,
Man Parrish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David McCallum,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Last Poets,
The Walker Brothers,
Joey Negro,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Toni Rubio,
X-Ray Spex,
Marc Almond,
Zero Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Monks,
Patti Smith,
DJ Sneak,
Joensuu 1685,
Quadrant,
Outsiders,
Laurel Aitken,
Ultimate Spinach,
Television,
The Pretty Things,
Zapp,
The Real Kids,
Public Enemy,
Ossler,
The Blues Magoos,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.