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 Barbados and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fugazi to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Pretty Things,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Association,
The Fugs,
Pantaleimon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Goldenarms,
Youth Brigade,
The Barracudas,
Brothers Johnson,
Crooked Eye,
Index,
The Gories,
D'Angelo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Unrelated Segments,
The American Breed,
The Knickerbockers,
This Heat,
The Velvet Underground,
ABBA,
Pole,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Main Source,
Can,
The Moleskins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fatback Band,
Slave,
Stiv Bators,
Q and Not U,
The Wake,
Sister Nancy,
Barrington Levy,
Alton Ellis,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mark Hollis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Scrapy,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Coltrane,
Rosa Yemen,
The Saints,
Swell Maps,
Kevin Saunderson,
Max Romeo,
Average White Band,
Mars,
The Fall,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Malaria!,
Cal Tjader,
Iggy Pop,
Rekid,
Eric Copeland,
Barry Ungar,
Avey Tare,
The Motions,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.