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 Norway and from Houston.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Star Department to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Toni Rubio,
the Swans,
The Fall,
Schoolly D,
Sparks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fugazi,
Arab on Radar,
Q65,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nick Fraelich,
Organ,
Joy Division,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harry Pussy,
The Barracudas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Derrick May,
Saccharine Trust,
Little Man,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Leaves,
Roger Hodgson,
Chris Corsano,
Rod Modell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Trumans Water,
Angry Samoans,
the Human League,
Minutemen,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tears for Fears,
Tom Boy,
Roy Ayers,
Second Layer,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cybotron,
The Invisible,
Panda Bear,
Cluster,
Vladislav Delay,
Von Mondo,
Hoover,
Jeff Mills,
Dead Boys,
Moby Grape,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Saints,
Magazine,
Malaria!,
D'Angelo,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Sherman,
The Knickerbockers,
Average White Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.