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 Marshall Islands and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cowsills to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The J.B.'s,
Roxette,
Mars,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rosa Yemen,
Bronski Beat,
James White and The Blacks,
Depeche Mode,
Ornette Coleman,
Marmalade,
Alison Limerick,
Barrington Levy,
Cheater Slicks,
Chris Corsano,
The Misunderstood,
Mark Hollis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Todd Rundgren,
Eddi Front,
The Wake,
Mo-Dettes,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
8 Eyed Spy,
Malaria!,
Alton Ellis,
Morten Harket,
Black Moon,
Sound Behaviour,
Average White Band,
Popol Vuh,
Warren Ellis,
Glenn Branca,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cluster,
The Busters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Görl,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeff Lynne,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Mummies,
Lou Christie,
The Last Poets,
Outsiders,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Electric Prunes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
Nick Fraelich,
Juan Atkins,
Kool Moe Dee,
John Coltrane,
Godley & Creme,
Stereo Dub,
Y Pants,
Sun City Girls,
Slick Rick,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.