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 Andorra and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gang Green to the dance 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Henry Cow,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pantytec,
Khruangbin,
Deepchord,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nils Olav,
A Certain Ratio,
Shoche,
Rekid,
The Sound,
Colin Newman,
Cal Tjader,
Rotary Connection,
the Human League,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rapeman,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers,
Black Sheep,
Marine Girls,
Peter & Gordon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Vogues,
Stereo Dub,
Letta Mbulu,
Surgeon,
the Sonics,
The Real Kids,
Suburban Knight,
Todd Rundgren,
UT,
The Gories,
Motorama,
Junior Murvin,
Cluster,
Ten City,
Scion,
Grauzone,
Piero Umiliani,
Malaria!,
Panda Bear,
Minutemen,
Thee Headcoats,
Sound Behaviour,
The Walker Brothers,
Matthew Bourne,
Livin' Joy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jacques Brel,
48th St. Collective,
Supertramp,
Bad Manners,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.