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 Ukraine and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Associates to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Smog,
Funky Four + One,
Fat Boys,
Little Man,
La Düsseldorf,
the Bar-Kays,
Stetsasonic,
Anthony Braxton,
Flash Fearless,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Cale,
The American Breed,
The Misunderstood,
Kerri Chandler,
Nils Olav,
Harry Pussy,
ABBA,
Marvin Gaye,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cameo,
Buzzcocks,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Barracudas,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Stooges,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Alarm Clocks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bush Tetras,
T.S.O.L.,
Eurythmics,
Visage,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Zapp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Hardrive,
The Smoke,
The New Christs,
Quadrant,
Alison Limerick,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dawn Penn,
Unrelated Segments,
Qualms,
Juan Atkins,
Brass Construction,
The Doobie Brothers,
Parry Music,
Prince Buster,
Marmalade,
Donald Byrd,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tomorrow,
John Holt,
Jacques Brel,
Kenny Larkin,
Fugazi,
Neu!,
Crash Course in Science,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.