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 Uruguay and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Offenders to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Stiv Bators,
Gastr Del Sol,
Y Pants,
Hot Snakes,
Panda Bear,
Echospace,
the Swans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Residents,
The Golliwogs,
Circle Jerks,
Motorama,
Piero Umiliani,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Barracudas,
The Gladiators,
Marmalade,
DJ Style,
Minor Threat,
Lou Christie,
Mr. Review,
Rekid,
Joe Finger,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Byrd,
Carl Craig,
Cluster,
Neu!,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Last Poets,
In Retrospect,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Isaac Hayes,
James White and The Blacks,
Jawbox,
Jesper Dahlback,
Vladislav Delay,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joensuu 1685,
Electric Prunes,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Moon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Bowie,
John Holt,
Ken Boothe,
Connie Case,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Severed Heads,
The Young Rascals,
Nation of Ulysses,
Andrew Hill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Index,
Cameo,
The Zeros,
The Kinks,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Patti Smith,
Infiniti,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.