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 Qatar and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 June Days to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Aloha Tigers,
Matthew Bourne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rapeman,
Banda Bassotti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Malaria!,
Easy Going,
Black Moon,
Howard Jones,
Organ,
Bronski Beat,
Susan Cadogan,
Section 25,
Mo-Dettes,
Pet Shop Boys,
T. Rex,
Tim Buckley,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Holt,
Roxette,
Lungfish,
Bill Near,
Jawbox,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
U.S. Maple,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Count Five,
Country Teasers,
Warren Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Con Funk Shun,
The Kinks,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joy Division,
Freddie Wadling,
Dead Boys,
Peter & Gordon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Juan Atkins,
David Bowie,
Minny Pops,
Eden Ahbez,
Donald Byrd,
The Knickerbockers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fad Gadget,
Alton Ellis,
Cecil Taylor,
Livin' Joy,
The Walker Brothers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Absolute Body Control,
Thompson Twins,
Sister Nancy,
Vladislav Delay,
Cal Tjader,
E-Dancer,
Suburban Knight,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bush Tetras,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.