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 Vietnam and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 harpsichord 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 T. Rex to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a marimba 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 arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
The Toasters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Clear Light,
The Birthday Party,
Man Parrish,
Drexciya,
Mad Mike,
The Golliwogs,
Sound Behaviour,
Sex Pistols,
Spandau Ballet,
Sixth Finger,
Mark Hollis,
Absolute Body Control,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bush Tetras,
Ultra Naté,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bizarre Inc.,
Subhumans,
Glenn Branca,
Nik Kershaw,
Graham Central Station,
Echospace,
The Gun Club,
D'Angelo,
Ludus,
Aural Exciters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Pus,
The Zeros,
The Index,
Davy DMX,
the Sonics,
Barry Ungar,
The Real Kids,
The Durutti Column,
Marc Almond,
The Fugs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Swell Maps,
Simply Red,
Nas,
Alice Coltrane,
Eden Ahbez,
Barbara Tucker,
Peter & Gordon,
Boredoms,
The Smiths,
Accadde A,
Jeff Mills,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Modern Lovers,
The Young Rascals,
the Association,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crispian St. Peters,
Can,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.