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 the UAE and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 Glenn Branca to the rock 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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
The Move,
Tom Boy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Supertramp,
Moebius,
Stockholm Monsters,
Simply Red,
Roger Hodgson,
T.S.O.L.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roxy Music,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Average White Band,
Jacques Brel,
Minor Threat,
Archie Shepp,
Brand Nubian,
Organ,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Henry Cow,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Delta 5,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bang On A Can,
Yaz,
Procol Harum,
Cameo,
T. Rex,
The Pretty Things,
The Misunderstood,
Easy Going,
The Neon Judgement,
The Cramps,
Barrington Levy,
Cal Tjader,
World's Most,
Jerry's Kids,
the Swans,
The Kinks,
Althea and Donna,
Gang Starr,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
These Immortal Souls,
The Residents,
The Blues Magoos,
Sugar Minott,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Foxx,
Neil Young,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bill Near,
Deepchord,
Lindisfarne,
The Trojans,
Adolescents,
Wings,
The Skatalites,
Bronski Beat,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.