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 Korea South 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sisters of Mercy to the grime 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Simply Red,
Livin' Joy,
Pulsallama,
Khruangbin,
Sandy B,
Underground Resistance,
Interpol,
Brothers Johnson,
Groovy Waters,
The Smoke,
John Holt,
One Last Wish,
The Mummies,
Dawn Penn,
Minutemen,
Idris Muhammad,
Yellowson,
Skarface,
The Moleskins,
Niagra,
Mars,
Hardrive,
Ronan,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-101,
Joey Negro,
Zapp,
Pole,
Zero Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crispian St. Peters,
This Heat,
The Real Kids,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry's Kids,
Basic Channel,
Black Moon,
the Germs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Eli Mardock,
Infiniti,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Scott Walker,
Steve Hackett,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Doors,
Robert Görl,
Sam Rivers,
Gabor Szabo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Warsaw,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Soft Cell,
Howard Jones,
The Velvet Underground,
Monolake,
Altered Images,
Gang Gang Dance,
Isaac Hayes,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.